


Once Bitten, Twice Shy

by JustRamblinOn



Series: Rock and Roll, It Will Survive [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drug Running, F/M, I suck at tagging, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Morally Grey Characters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Past Murder, Rock and Roll, brief Shane/Reader, contains about 6 billion rock song references, i'm so bad at tagging i'm sorry, lots of criminal elements, past attempted rape/non con, past threat of sexual abuse of a minor, reader is in Merle's motorcycle gang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-03-05 17:36:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 102
Words: 218,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18833476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustRamblinOn/pseuds/JustRamblinOn
Summary: A sheriff's station isn't the worst place in the world to be during the zombie apocalypse. Not even when you're behind bars when it starts, if you're resourceful enough to get yourself out of the cell.Rolling with Deputy Do-Good Grimes isn't your first choice, considering you're part of one of Atlanta's biggest motorcycle gangs, but you'll take what you can get in the way of help to get back to Atlanta. A few familiar faces make the question of what the hell you're going to do next a lot easier choice to make. If, that is, you can let the past go and focus on the future.





	1. All Aboard the Crazy Train

**Author's Note:**

> Notes for each chapter will include additional individual chapter warnings
> 
> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> drugs mentioned

A sheriff’s station wasn’t a bad place to be holed up when the end of the world happened, all things considered. There were weapons; there were showers. The sheriff's department annual canned food drive for the homeless had been running when all hell broke loose, in a stroke of luck you'd never had before in your life. Backup generators meant you could do things like cook or heat the place when winter set in, as long as you had fuel. It was a pretty sweet setup. 

The fact that you were there because you’d been picked up on some bogus possession charge- probably because you were wearing colors at the time and on your bike- and had been left to rot there wasn’t a great thing. And, ok, Officer Not-So-Friendly Walsh was right, you were in possession and you were, sort of at least, on club business, but he didn’t know that when he pulled you. It was profiling, plain and simple. 

It was also the last fuckin’ time you were doing Dixon any favors, either, you thought grumpily as you checked what was still in the break room and took stock of your food situation. 

It’d been three months since everyone had gone running out and left you alone in the cell. When one of the deputies had come back, you’d rolled your eyes and made a quip before you realized the dude was dead. 

Motherfucking dead, and trying to get into the cell after you. 

You hadn't gotten to be who you were without being pretty damn resourceful and fairly quick on your feet, so you’d snatched the baton from his belt and put it through his eye. He’d stopped trying to eat you after that, and you’d pulled the keys from his belt with shaking hands and released yourself from the cell. You’d gone outside a few times, just to see what the hell was going on, and it was not good. 

Very, very not good. 

It hadn’t taken long at all to figure out that emergency services were out for the count and it was every walking corpse for themselves out there. You’d decided to stay put until you came up with any better ideas or any ideas at all on how to haul ass back to Atlanta. 

So far, none had come to mind. 

 

You hadn’t seen any live people in weeks, so you could be forgiven for not expecting the living to invade your hide out. 

You heard the voices in the bathroom and went tense. 

“Gas main’s been down for maybe a month,” a man’s voice said, and you pulled one of the guns you’d taken from the cage from the thigh holster you’d also commandeered. 

It was the zombie apocalypse; you were going to be fucking prepared. 

“Station has its own propane system,” another voice answered and you were mentally cussing up a storm as you crept closer. “Pilot’s still on.”

You eased an eye around the corner as someone chuckled, saw two men and a kid. A kid? Huh. That gave you a bit of a pause. Oh well, something had to be done while you had the advantage here. 

“Freeze, assholes,” you snapped, making your voice as hard as possible, and all three of them whirled. 

“Who are you?” the tall one asked, deep Georgia drawl in place as he cocked his head and lifted his hands slightly. 

The other man grabbed for the kid and pushed him behind him, and your eyes lingered on the kid for a minute. You didn’t mess with kids. These other two? You’d have no problem blowing their brains out, though. 

“Should be asking you that. You broke into my place,” you shot back, holding the gun rock steady on the first guy. 

“Didn’t break in,” he said easily. “I’ve got a key. Rick Grimes. Deputy Rick Grimes.” 

You lowered the gun and sighed. “Fuck. Just my luck. Well, Deputy Grimes. Welcome to the party. I’m YN. Got thrown in lock up because one of your fellow deputies was profiling like crazy. Then another one tried to eat me.” 

 

Deputy Grimes wasn’t that bad. And he was definitely damn lucky. He’d been shot a few weeks before the virus or whatever it was broke out and had woken up in the hospital just yesterday. Morgan and Duane, the dad and kid, had taken him in and showed him the ropes with the zombies. 

They called them walkers, but hey- call it like you see it. The damn things were zombies. 

Rick was headed to Atlanta. You’d heard the same broadcasts Morgan had, about the refugee center and the center for disease control. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to get back there- hell, you were based in Atlanta, literally everyone you knew was there- it was that you knew it would be impossible on your own, and there hadn’t been anyone else. You needed someone to watch your six before you moved out. 

You couldn’t believe it, but you were seriously thinking about taking up with the cop. 

You. An Enforcer for the Nameless, Atlanta chapter, only here in Podunkville, Georgia as a favor for Merle fucking Dixon, your treasurer, and tossed in the clink over it- 

You were thinking about rolling with Rick Grimes, sheriff deputy. 

The world really had fucking ended. 

 

 

He was in full uniform when you rolled out, leaving Morgan and the kid behind. You scoffed and shook your head at the picture the two of you made. Rick had the hat, the shirt, the star, everything; head to toe the full King County Sheriff’s Deputy Rick Grimes. 

You, in contrast, were every inch the biker criminal. It wasn’t that you’d cultivated that; it was just- your look. And you felt it, next to the perfect paragon of societal virtue that was Rick Grimes. It was like angels and demons, light and darkness; the difference between clean-shaven Officer Law and you. 

You with your leather jacket, vest with full colors layered over it proudly, like it damn well should be. You were Nameless, regardless of the world ending. Your fitted black jeans, combat boots, and the pilfered thigh holsters you’d snagged early on continued the image. Half-gloves came out of your jacket pockets as you headed out the door, ready to hop on your bike and roll. 

Rick, however, was heading toward a cruiser. You stopped and laughed. 

“Uh, no, hoss. Don’t think so,” you told him, hand on your hip. “Where the hell’s my bike?” 

“Probably in the impoundment. Besides, there’s not enough gas for two vehicles. This is what we’ve got.” Rick was giving you a look you figured you’d be seeing a lot, an intense-friendly stare from those ice blue eyes that heavily suggested you should agree with him. 

You considered yourself immune immediately. “Well get it out of impoundment then, officer. I don’t go anywhere in a cruiser. You can ride in the bitch seat if you’re worried about gas.” You crossed your arms as his jaw clenched, trying not to smirk. 

Irritating law enforcement was kind of your specialty; something you’d been doing since you picked your first lock at eight. To be fair, it’d been your foster brother’s fault. 

“We can’t. It’s ten miles out of the way and completely impractical. Morgan said noise draws them. A motorcycle is louder than the siren on this thing,” Rick hissed. 

You weighed how hard you wanted to push this. If he refused, he was going on to Atlanta with or without you to look for his wife and kid. And you’d be stuck here, alone again. You were cool with being alone most of the time, but- your family was in Atlanta. Your fellow Nameless needed you, damn it. An Enforcer’s job was to protect his or her family from any threat. 

You’d say hordes of the shambling undead was a fair threat to your family. 

“Damn it. Fine! I’ll drive,” you muttered in a tone that allowed for zero arguement, and climbed in behind the wheel. “This bitch is claustrophobic!” 

 

The deputy took out one of his before swinging into the passenger seat. He whooped the siren once as the two of you and Morgan and Duane parted company, then pointed you down a street. You turned dutifully, tapping your thumbs on the steering wheel and humming “Crazy Train” under your breath. Ozzy was a good choice for a situation like this, you felt.

“Who was he?” you asked abruptly, and Grimes looked at you. 

“What?” 

“Who was he? The one you-” you gestured vaguely at your head, pantomiming blowing someone’s brains out. 

He winced, and you felt a tiny bit of guilt. Not much, mind. But he seemed like a decent guy, for a cop. 

“Leon Basset. He was careless and dumb. I didn’t think much of him, but...” he trailed off and looked out the window. 

“Yeah. Sorry, man,” you offered, finding you meant it. You were starting to think this Rick Grimes was one of the all too rare Good People everyone always thought they were. Here he was, end of the world, and he’d not only given guns and ammo to some random dude he’d met on the street; he was also taking up with someone he should have been an immediate enemy to and genuinely cared about the fate of a man he obviously disliked. 

“Thanks,” he answered before giving you a closer look. “So. YN. What’s your story?” he asked slyly. 

You laughed, open but harsh. “No story, Officer. Why?” 

There was a faint smile that you could see from the corner of your eye as you checked your mirrors. 

“Oh, I think there’s a story. What the hell an enforcer for the Nameless was doing alone in King County lock up, for starters.” 

You flashed him a careless smile. “The world ended, Officer, or didn’t you get the memo? Who cares what came before?” 

“I did. If that’s the case, then you can stop calling me officer or deputy and just call me Rick. And I’m curious. You could have left any time, but you didn’t. Why?” 

You snorted at him. “Because there wasn’t anyone living to watch my six. The Nameless are a club, Deputy- Rick,” you corrected with a nod his way. “A family. We depend on each other. That’s going to be the case now more than ever. People are going to have to depend on each other to get by.” 

He nodded slightly. “Alright. Why me, then? Why not go with Morgan and Duane?” 

“This because you’re a cop and I’m a criminal?” you teased. 

“Are you?” 

“Am I what?” 

“A criminal,” he said, gesturing you to make another turn. “I seem to recall you claiming profiling was the reason you were in lock up.” 

You shot a quick look at him and found yourself smiling at the covered amusement in his tone. “I’m a criminal. I was totally profiled, but Walsh was right- pot’s still illegal in Georgia.” 

“Walsh?” Rick asked, leaning toward you intently. “As in Shane Walsh?” 

You raised an eyebrow, the one with the silver stud through it. “Well, I didn’t get his first name. It was strictly a professional relationship, Officer. Why? Friend of yours?” 

“Partner,” he muttered. “You see him again? After?” 

“After the dead started eating people and everyone abandoned me in the cell? No. No, I didn’t. Sorry.”

“Stop here,” Rick said, and you pulled the cruiser to halt in some residential area. Rick opened the door and climbed out, adjusting the damn hat on his head as you opened your door and looked around in confusion. 

“Where the hell are we, Grimes? This don’t look like Atlanta,” you asked, leaning in the doorway of the cruiser. 

“Gotta find something,” Rick answer cryptically, and started walking. 

What the hell? You considered getting back in the car, but there was that whole watching each other’s backs thing. You shrugged a little to yourself and jogged to catch up. 

“So- give me a clue, Deputy. What are we looking for?”

“Her,” he said, nodding at something in the distance. 

 

It was half a her. Not a full her. Half a her, and she was gross. She was also fuckin’ fast, hauling herself along by her arms, and you were impressed. 

You stood back as Rick crouched beside her. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” he said softly, then pulled the Python and shot her in the head. 

Both eyebrows shot up at that. “Well, Deputy Grimes, remind me not to get on your bad side.” 

He looked up at you and didn’t smile. “Not about that. It’s about not wanting anyone to suffer like that anymore. She was someone. A human being, once. Let’s go.” 

And he was off, you following along behind. You were right earlier, you realized with a sigh. He was one of the rare good ones. 

You were either saved, or royally fucked.


	2. On A Steel Horse I Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> animal death (cannon)

You took 85 to Atlanta, Rick muttering about your driving and about the windows being rolled down. What could you say? Cars were confining, especially in Georgia. You needed the wind in your face, however you could get it. And you were a biker- how the hell did he expect you to drive? Like a granny?

“Oh, quit bitching, Deputy,” you told him casually. “It’s a long road to Atlanta. Sleep while you can.” 

He snorted and grabbed the radio again, using the emergency channel to try to raise anyone on the CB. You could have- and had- told him it wouldn’t work, due to having, you know, tried it yourself quite a few times in the station. 

He persisted in not listening to you. Stubborn ass. 

 

At the gas station there was a tent city, a shit ton of abandoned cars, and the ‘no gas’ sign you’d have expected. 

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered, deflated. 

The little girl zombie was a surprise, and you froze. 

Hardened biker badass who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks and could handle anything, and the deputy had to come to your rescue. He put her down with a head shot and as she fell backward, both of you stared. 

He put a hand on your arm. “Hey. YN. You ok?” 

You shook yourself slightly. “I- I wasn’t expecting a kid. I didn’t even think- fuck,” you ended in a whisper, eyes filling. You dashed the tears away angrily, daring him to say anything about them. 

“Yeah. I didn’t think about it either,” he said softly, his jaw tightening as he looked beyond you. “This ain’t gonna be easy.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed softly, looking down at the twice-dead little girl. “No shit.” 

 

 

The car ran out of gas, and Rick got out, grabbed the gas can and the bag of guns, and started walking toward a farmhouse in the distance. You sighed again, wondering how he could be this damn innocent and still be a policeman. Weren’t they all supposed to be hardened just like you criminal types were? Jesus. 

“Come on, Deputy, you think they’re going to answer the door and offer us some gas? Just because you say you’re an officer of the law?” you asked when you caught up to him. “You could be anybody! And whoever lived here? Is most likely dead. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re outnumbered by them.” 

“I noticed. Can’t hurt to ask,” he said with a smile, and started yelling about being a police officer when he got close. 

“For fuck’s sake,” you muttered, and pulled one of your guns. “You’re going to get me killed, aren’t you, Rick Grimes?” 

“I hope not,” he said cheerfully, knocking on the door. 

You looked in the window and made a face. “Ok, that’s disgusting. Grimes, take a look,” you said, backing away before you hurled. 

‘God Forgive Us’ was written on the wall in blood, and the asshole in overalls was missing half his head. There were a lot of flies, though, and another dead woman at his feet. 

Rick glanced in and paled. He shoved away from the porch and whipped off his hat, sitting for a minute under a tree and looking like he was going to hurl, too. 

Shit. You drifted over slowly, holstering the gun and hooking your thumbs through your belt loops. “You ok, Rick?” you asked softly when you were close enough. 

He looked up at you and there was something churning under his eyes. “What kind of world is this?”

You dropped down beside him and kicked your legs out, crossing them. “A real fucked up one, man. You and me? We shouldn’t be able to stand the sight of each other. But here we are. Allies. Opposites in literally every way,” you added with a grin, and he gave an amused huff of air. “But allies.” 

“Friends?” he asked softly, and you nudged his shoulder with yours and laughed. 

“Don’t push it, Deputy. We barely know each other. Allies. Potential friends,” you added with a smirk. 

“Good enough,” he answered, smiling for real. “Let’s see if we can find some gas.” 

 

 

You were under the dash of the truck, stripping wires, when Rick called your name. There was something to his tone that made you tense immediately, and you extracted yourself from the cab slowly. 

He was staring at something, and his head was cocked to one side. Oh god, that didn't look good. You walked over to him and followed his gaze. 

“No,” you declared flatly. 

“But-” he began, turning the intense-friendly stare on you. You held up your hand to silence him. 

“No.” 

“Come-” 

“Deputy, this is insane. There’s only one of it, and two of us,” you argued, incredulous. “And have you seen me? The only horses I ride are the steel kind!” 

He grinned. “Bon Jovi’d be proud. Hey, is he dead? I mean, before all this?” 

You considered that for a minute. “No idea, though I think Bon Jovi’d be fine with becoming a zombie. But we digress. No.” 

 

 

You lost the argument, so now you were sitting on what Rick had gleefully called the bitch seat; clinging to his waist and muttering every cuss word you’d ever heard as he laughed his ass off and pushed the damn thing faster. 

“You’re enjoying this just a little too much, Officer,” you snarled. He patted your hand genially. 

“You’re doin’ fine! Just a little further!” 

It was, you had to admit, quieter than either the cruiser or your bike would have been. And it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, riding an actual horse. You still missed your bike and honestly would rather be dead than caught in this situation by anyone you knew. 

Though the way this idiot had talked to the horse to catch it, slowly and calmly offering it a ‘proposal’ and telling it Atlanta probably had other horses had you snorting a laugh again now. You’d been rolling at the time, beyond the fence, and you were pretty sure that’s why you’d been designated to carry the big ass bag of guns on your back. As punishment. 

Well, it wasn’t worse than some of the hazing you’d gone through to become a patch member of the Nameless. Hell, even the zombies weren’t worse than some of that. 

Then Rick clicked his tongue and flicked the reigns, the beast jumped over something, and you screeched. 

Rick was still laughing when you hit the highway. 

 

 

“You’re such an asshole,” you complained, but it was weak. 

You’d been riding up the ten-lane into the city, past an endless line of abandoned cars that had obviously been trying to flee. The two of you were both tense and quiet and worried, but you’d been trying to keep each other somewhat distracted. It wasn’t working, despite the fact that Rick was actually pretty funny. He’d caught you up for awhile in trying to come up with every zombie-related song you’d ever heard, and surprised you when he’d come up with some more unexpected ones than the obvious “Thriller”. 

The city was deserted, though, and you were getting really concerned for the Nameless. For your friends and family outside the gang. Hell, for the world. That was a tank right there. 

Tanks in streets were never a good sign for world affairs.

“Deputy, this doesn’t look good,” you whispered as you rode through yet another empty street. “If there’s supposed to be some big ass refuge center, where the hell is it?” 

“Yeah. I know,” Rick said grimly. 

The horse shied away as you watched a few dead assholes on a bus start to move. 

“It’s ok,” Rick said soothingly to the horse. “Just a few. We can outrun them.” 

And then, of course, he turned another corner and the street was fucking full of them. 

“You were saying?” you yelled angrily as the horse reared and you clung to Rick to avoid falling off. 

“Is this really the time?” he shot back as your path was blocked on all sides. 

 

 

“Fuck!” 

You were ripped off the horse’s back, drug down by the zombies clinging to the massive bag of guns. Just when you thought you were a done for- this was it; this was how you died- the deputy dropped the walkers around you. Then he dove off the horse as you scrambled to your feet, both of you wincing a little as the dead tore into the horse and it screamed. 

Horse didn’t deserve that shit, but- 

“Gotta go, Officer,” you snapped, grabbing his arm and taking off into the gathering crowd. 

Of course, there was only one way to go. 

“Under the tank?” he asked as you shoved one who got to close back. 

“Got a better idea?” you snapped, dropping down and belly-crawling. He was right at your side, and you were this fucking close to making it when you saw the feet. “Damn it!” 

They were coming at you from both sides, and there was no fucking way the two of you could take them all down. You glanced at the deputy and grinned. 

“Been nice knowing you, Officer Grimes,” you said, but he grabbed your arm. 

“Up, now!” he shouted. 

 

Slamming the tank door was satisfying, until you realized you were probably stuck in there now. With a corpse. You kept an eye on it while Rick grabbed at the gun in its holster. 

“Rick!” you yelled as you saw it move, and you fired without thinking. 

You took it out, but- 

Mistake. Really, really big mistake. You were dazed and confused, and Rick didn’t look like he was in better shape, but at least he was moving. He staggered upright, through the hatch, and as your head finally stopped ringing, he slammed it closed and dropped back down beside you. 

"So," you got out, and your voice sounded at once very far away and way too loud. "Surrounded?" 

"Yeah." 

 

The two of you sat in silence for a minute, as you considered your options. 

"Maybe they'll get bored? Few hours, when the horse is gone?" you offered. He shrugged, staring at something in the distance. You nudged him with your foot. "Deputy Grimes, you good?" 

"Failed them. Again. Lori and Carl," he whispered. 

"Wife and kid?" you asked, and he nodded. "You didn't fail them, asshole. Temporary setback. We'll find them." 

"We're trapped. In a tank. In Atlanta." 

He had a point there. "Yes, but we're trapped together. And it's in Atlanta, and you're running with Atlanta's seedy underbelly now, Deputy. We get out of shit we shouldn't be able to all the time! Maybe I can hot wire this tank...." 

The radio chose that moment to crackle, as Rick was frowning at you in a way that said he was trying not to smile. You froze, eyes widening as his did, and both of you turned slowly toward it, like the heroes in some B rated horror flick. 

Oh hell, you were the heroes in a B rated horror flick. 

"Hey, you. Dumbasses. Yeah, you in the tank. You cozy in there?"


	3. If You Listen To Fools, The Mob Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> racism and racist remarks (direct show dialogue; thanks Merle)   
> past child abuse  
> mentions of past threat of rape/molestation of a minor

Mysterious voice on the radio gave some very clear and specific directions, along with a level of snarky attitude you fully respected. While Rick talked, you searched the dead guy. 

You were just very not-squeamish like that. 

"Oh, baby," you whispered to yourself, grabbing up the fucking grenade beside the dead army man. You tucked that shit into your jacket pocket to save for a rainy day. Then you were making a break for it, following the voice's directions. 

Rick grabbed a shovel and took a deep breath, giving you a nod. You had one of your stolen guns in hand and at the ready, and he shot up through the hatch and slammed that shovel into the dead asshole still on the tank. You were right on his six, dropping and rolling gracefully from the tank. 

He didn't do as hot and was limping when he got up, eyes wild. 

"Fuck," you muttered, and shoved your shoulder under his to help him hustle along. You were both shooting as the bastards started converging on you and you made for the alley. "I thought the dead were supposed to be slow!" 

"You pick odd times to complain about shit, you know?" Rick grunted. 

 

 

"Not dead!" yelled the face suddenly in front of you, and you recognized the voice. "Come on! Come on!" 

Mysterious voice was a quick-footed Asian kid with a ball cap, a backpack, and a radio in his back pocket. He led you into the alley and you and Rick were still picking off the zombies as they came after you. He started up the ladder at a mad scramble. Rick tried to gesture you ahead, but you shot him a look. 

"Get up the damn ladder. You're hurt," you snapped, and he didn't really have time to argue. You kicked down, using your heavy combat boots to your advantage and smashing in a couple of skulls as the dead all converged on the ladder. 

"What are you doing? Come on!" Mysterious voice yelled down, and Rick's Deputy Grimes yell for you to hurry up made you grin as you started hauling yourself up. Rick pulled you onto the landing and you leaned over it and looked down at the swarming mass of the dead. 

"Nice moves there, Clint Eastwood. You the new sheriff, come riding in to clean up the town?" 

You laughed, leaning around Rick to slap the new guy's back. "I like you. Thanks for saving our asses."

"Yeah, whatever. Yeehaw. You're still dumbasses." 

Rick sighed as you laughed again. "Rick. Thanks," he said, holding his hand out to the guy. 

"Glenn. You're welcome," mysterious voice answered with the resigned air of someone who regretted their entire existence. He turned an assessing look on you. "You're Nameless." 

Your back went rigid and you crossed your arms. "Yeah. That a problem?" 

"Nope. Just hope you're not like the other Nameless I know." 

Your eyebrow went up. "You know someone in the club? Who?" 

"Oh no," Glenn said, looking down, and you looked too. 

Walkers were starting to climb the ladder. 

"Ok, that's just fucking unfair," you said. "Zombies are not supposed to be this smart!" 

Glenn shot you a strained grin. "You know what, Nameless? I like you. Let's go." 

 

Only way out was further up. Bright side, according to your new friend at least, was that the fall would kill you. 

"I'm a glass half full kind of guy," he declared before leading the way up the next section of ladder toward the roof. 

The three of you made it without any further incidents, and Glenn was leading you along a winding rooftop path that had you grinning. You didn't know if he'd found it after the end of the world or if he'd known about it before, but this was clearly the work of some of that seedy criminal underbelly. 

"Why'd you stick your neck out so far for us?" Rick asked as the kid dropped his pack down an access hatch into the building. 

"Call it foolish, naive hope that if I'm ever that far up shit creek, somebody might do the same for me. Guess I'm an even bigger dumbass that either of you," he said with a grin, and disappeared into the dark. 

You closed the hatch after you, and kept following the kid. He started yelling into the radio as you hit an alley, four of the zombies approaching rapidly. Just as rapidly, a couple people with bats and padding came out of nowhere and started beating the shit out of the zombies. 

"Let's go!" Glenn yelled, and hey, you weren't complaining. 

 

 

Rick had a gun in his face via an angry blonde, and you moved even as voices started talking over each other. 

"Put it down," you snapped, your own gun on her. "Slowly." 

"We're dead because of you!" she yelled, and you clicked the hammer back. 

"YN, stop. It's ok," Rick said softly, and you shot him an incredulous look. 

"Are you fucking kidding me, Deputy? She's got a gun on you!" 

"She's scared," someone else said. "Come on, Andrea, put it down or pull the trigger." 

She lowered it, and you dropped yours. Rick put a hand on your shoulder as you took your first look around the room. Besides Glenn and the now-crying blonde, there were three others: another woman and two men. The men had been the ones doing the bashing of brains outside. 

"We're dead, all of us- because of you," Andrea said, and you and Rick exchanged looks. 

"I don't understand," he said slowly. 

 

They walked you further into the store, talking about coming in to scavenge supplies and how that required quiet, tip-toeing around. You weren't really listening, instead taking in what was around- department store, clothing, from the look of it, very little that was useful- and checking out the new people. You did, however, snatch a couple of pairs of sunglasses from a display as the group paused to stare at the gathered zombies, tucking the ear piece of one pair into your tank's neckline and shoving the others into a jacket pocket. 

It was always good to have spares. 

Glenn with the smart mouth was clearly one of the junior members. He started to hang back immediately, and you got the feeling it was because of all the big personalities at play. He just didn't care to compete. You could respect that, especially since you knew he was the one you'd want covering your ass. 

The guy making the speech seemed to be sort of in charge, but you had this weird feeling no one really was. Which, in your opinion, was very much a mistake. Groups needed leaders. Hierarchy counteracted anarchy, damn it. He seemed ok enough, if angry. The blonde was going to be trouble, the other woman was very quiet, and the other man hadn't done more than glare and follow you around. 

Then you heard someone shooting from the roof. 

"Oh my God, is that Dixon?" the blonde asked, and your eyes went wide. 

No. Fucking. Way. 

 

 

You followed them onto the roof, Rick's hand on your back in quick reassurance. He didn't know you knew someone named Dixon. 

Someone named Dixon who was enough of an idiot to be popping off shots from the roof of a building while everyone else went nuts and thought they were going to die. If it was Merle- and you were pretty sure it was; weren't that many Nameless and weren't that many people named Dixon, and the overlap there was exactly one; how much of a coincidence could it be that Glenn knew a Nameless and there was someone named Dixon here?- and Merle was high, it wasn't you that would need reassurance. It was these clowns. 

You followed more sedately than Rick did, Rick being Deputy Grimes right now in a major way in the face of the current crisis. Old habits die hard and all that, and he was clearly trying to quell the rising tide of panic among these survivors. 

And there he was as you leaned in the doorway of the staircase, standing on the edge of the roof with a rifle. You shook your head, amused, as you pulled your newly pilfered shades from your shirt and hooked them over your eyes. Deputy Rick was hanging back, looking from Merle to the group as they started yelling at each other. You watched and waited, trying to get a gauge for just how high Merle was, because he definitely was flying. 

"Ya outta be more polite to a man with a gun!" he called, leaping down from his perch. "Only common sense." 

"Man, you wasting bullets we ain't even got!" T Dog yelled, voice squeaky with rage and fear. "And you're bringing even more of them down on our ass! Man, just chill." 

"Hey, bad enough I got this taco bender on my ass all day, now I'm gonna take order from you?" Merle sneered, and you sighed. "I don't think so, bro. That'll be the day."

So he was super high, it seemed. He always sounded like Will when he was high. 

They were going back and forth and you were deciding if you wanted to intervene. After all, Merle was your superior. He was the treasurer, an elected officer of the Nameless, and hell- he'd sponsored your way into the club. If he started a fight, you were honor bound to back him. If he knew you were there and gave you orders, you had to follow. Officially. 

Of course, this was the zombie apocalypse and he was an asshole when he was high, which was a solid seventy percent of the time these days. Even the president kept Merle on a tight leash when he was high, usually relying on you to keep him in line. 

And on the third hand, he was Merle and you were you. Plus, these people were just trying to survive the same as you were. Did club rules really matter in the face of saving what remained of the human race? 

While you considered, the fight broke out. You sighed and pulled the shades back off your eyes, shrugging out of your jacket while Merle started punching people. When he punched Rick, though, you jumped to Rick's side instead of into the fight. 

"You good, Deputy?" you asked softly as Rick held a hand to his jaw and staggered to his feet. He gave you a long look and nodded, but his eyes were hard as they flickered to the vest on Merle's back. Merle was flying colors, too, and you sighed. You'd lost a lot of good will with your new friend, it seemed, and you needed to do something about Merle before he went so far he couldn't be brought back. 

You wondered what fun little cocktail he'd had to make him go this fucking bad. He was always an asshole, a little racist and sexist and damn aggressive, but this wasn't the Merle you knew. Not really. 

You left Rick where he was and shoved past some of the others to where Merle was beating the shit out of T Dog. He pulled a gun from his pants right as you got there. 

"Dixon! Nameless don't draw unless they plan on pulling the trigger. Do you?" you snapped, crossing your arms and raising your pierced eyebrow. 

Merle's back went stiff at the sound of your voice, and he looked around with a grin. "Well, well, well, Enforcer. Why ain't ya come to my rescue when I started fightin'?" 

You rolled your eyes at him as he rose from over the prone T Dog. "Because you didn't need it, asshole. You gonna put that thing away? We're outnumbered here. By the living and the dead." 

"I think it's time I take charge. Especially now that I got me some top-shelf backup, huh? Time for a little democracy. Show of hands!" He started waving the gun at everyone grouped around T Dog, and behind his back you threw your hands up in disgust. Rick came to your shoulder while Merle ran his mouth and gave you a look. You nodded with a sigh.

Rick cracked the butt of Merle's rifle across Merle's head, clicked a handcuff to his wrist, and secured the other end to a pipe. You crossed your arms over your chest after sliding the stolen shades back over your eyes. 

"Who the hell are you, man?" Merle yelled, and you smirked at Rick's response. 

"Officer Friendly. Look here, Merle. Things are different now. There's only dark meat and white meat. Us and the dead. We survive this by pulling together, not apart." 

"Screw you, man. I'm Nameless. We don't run with the law," Merle snarled. 

"Oh yeah? She does. Cause she gets it," Rick said nodding at you. Merle's eyes narrowed as he looked at you. 

"Where ya colors, Nameless?" he asked, voice low and dangerous. 

You sauntered forward and dropped into a crouch beside Rick. "Merle, you stubborn ass. Just shut your mouth. You know damn well who I am and you know I'm on your side. Officer Friendly here doesn't give a shit which side of the law we were on before. Before's gone. So shut up, sit your ass here, and sober the fuck up, would you? You sound like Will every time you open your damn mouth." 

Merle blinked up at you, something moving through his eyes with that last jab. You raised your eyebrows as he opened his mouth to speak, but he looked away from you without saying anything and nodded, once. 

You let a huff of air and stood, heading back over to your jacket and settling it back on your shoulders. As your colors landed on your back, you were surprised to find that you'd meant it, about what was before being gone. If Atlanta had proven anything, it's that old dividing lines and old loyalties were dissolving rapidly in the face of the dead. 

 

 

"Merle? Merle, you alive in here?" you whispered, knocking on the bathroom door. 

Daryl was out in the woods somewhere when you'd heard the screaming start, and you'd waited until it stopped to slip in through the window Daryl always left open in his room for you. You used it a lot- mostly at night like this, when you'd had enough of the pacing outside your bedroom door or you'd gotten on your foster dad's bad side and earned a hit or a slap. You checked to make sure Will was passed out in his recliner, customary cigarette hanging from his lips, before you headed to where you saw light under the crack in the bathroom door. 

"Go away, girl," Merle called back, and you heard the pain in his voice. 

"Not likely, asshole," you told him. "I'm coming in, so you better be decent." You opened the door when you heard him snort. 

Merle was four years older than your thirteen, and you worshiped the ground he walked on. You pressed your lips into a hard line when you saw him. He had his shirt off, a shiner on his eye and a split lip, but it was his back that made your heart start to pound and your throat burn. 

"Will used the belt, I see," you said, holding your voice steady with sheer force of will. "Come on, grab the kit and let's go to your room. I'll take care of it." 

You turned and walked out, not giving him a chance to argue. It was bad in your house- bad and getting worse- but it was never as bad as Will Dixon. You didn't know how the two of them stood it, much less managed to make a safe place for you to come when you needed it. 

"Shouldn't be in here, YN. He'll go after ya if he catches ya," Merle muttered, closing his door behind you. You grabbed the first aid kit out of his hands with a snort and jerked your head toward Merle's unmade bed. 

"He's passed out hard, like always. I'll be gone before he wakes up and wants another drink. What'd you do, anyway? To set him off?" you asked, climbing up on the bed behind Merle and sitting on your knees. You started dabbing at the worst of the cuts on his back with rubbing alcohol, and Merle hissed sharply. 

"Told him I was leavin' soon," he admitted, and your hands stopped moving without you realizing it. 

"You are?" you asked softly, not wanting him to know how much that made you want to cry. He was seventeen. He should go. Get out of this hellhole now that he could.

"Yeah. I mean, gotta wait awhile yet. But as soon's I can, I'm gone. Been up in Atlanta a lot. There's these guys up there; they're bikers. Called the Nameless. In another year, they'll let me in as a prospect. If I can get with them, they're my ticket outta here," he said, oblivious to the way your eyes swam with tears. "Once I get a place, you and Daryl'll come live with me." 

You blinked. "Me too?" 

"Yeah! I ain't leavin' you there, not with ya foster dad. I seen the way he looks at ya. Ain't lettin' nothing happen to ya, girl," he said affectionately, and you were smiling shyly as you finished cleaning him up. 

 

He'd kept his word, in a way. He headed to Atlanta a year later. Two years after that, you turned sixteen and punched your foster dad in the face when he stopped pacing and finally came into your room one night. You crawled in through Daryl's open window and curled up beside him afterwards, trying not to cry as he scooted over and handed you his pillow without a word. The next morning, you packed a bag and ran off to Atlanta. You'd crashed on Merle's bed while he and Daryl slept on the floor in the rathole of an apartment Merle split with three other roommates while he worked his way up in the club.

The first time he swung on his vest as a full patch member, you were there to cheer him on. 

The first time he got arrested, you bailed him out. 

When he headed off to war instead of prison, you were there with Daryl to see him off. When he came back broken, you were there to try to put him back together. You hadn't succeeded, but hey- you at least kept him in line, for the most part. 

Merle'd gotten you in the club before he left, and keeping track of him when he got back had earned you your place as enforcer.

 

 

Rick and Morales made their way over to you while Merle yelled about his stash. 

"You toss it?" you asked Rick, who gave you a hard look and a nod. 

"You know him," he said, and you shrugged.

"Nameless," you said simply, gesturing from yourself back toward Merle. "He's an officer in the club. Treasurer." You didn't feel like giving them your sordid backstory. Not while Merle was high. 

"You could have joined the fight on his side." 

"I should have joined on his side, according to club rules. But I didn't, partly because managing him when he's high is part of my job, but mostly because living is more important than club bullshit. We still allies, Officer Friendly?" you asked bluntly, and Rick held your eyes for a minute before nodding. 

"Allies. Potential friends," he said, smile on his lips. You grinned. 

"Good enough." 

"You're from here," Morales said, looking at you. "But you're not Atlanta PD. Where you from?" he asked Rick. 

"Up the road a ways," Rick answered, and Morales snorted. 

"Well, Officer Friendly from up the road a ways. Welcome to the big city."


	4. I Can't Drive Fifty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> brief derogatory/homophobic language (thanks Merle)  
> mentions of past child abuse

"How's the signal?" Rick asked T Dog. You leaned against the wall, watching the zombies in the road below. You were a fighter, an enforcer, not a leader. Plans were well and good, but you carried them out. You didn't make them. 

"Like Dixon's brain. Weak," the man answered, and you couldn't blame him. Merle had beaten the shit out of him after spouting off some serious racism. 

"Keep trying," Morales suggested. 

"Why?" the trigger happy blonde said angrily. "There's nothing they can do." 

"Got some people outside the city," Morales told Rick. "There's no refugee center. That's a pipe dream." 

"Then it's up to us to find a way out," Rick said seriously, his Deputy Grimes voice in full effect. You smirked as you stared. 

"Good luck with that," Merle said. "Streets ain't safe in this part of town. Least that's what I hear. Ain't that right, sugar tits?" he added, and you rolled your eyes hard. "Hey, honeybuch. You let me out of these cuffs and we go off somewhere and bump some uglies?" 

You turned, eyebrows raised, to see which of the women Merle was spouting off to. No surprise, it was Andrea. When Andrea shut him down, you snorted. 

"Rug muncher. I figured as much," Merle muttered, and that was enough. 

"Dixon, shut the fuck up, would you?" you said mildly. "You're shaming the Nameless, asshat. I'm honor bound to tell you to fuck off." 

"Oh really? I ain't the one all buddied up with a damn pig." 

You stalked over to Merle and sat down beside him, legs spread out. "Hey, idiot? Think you can see your way to a clear thought through whatever cocktail is currently addling your brain? We're up shit creek, and that man in the sheriff's uniform? He's got the only paddle. So shut it. Or catch me up on what happened here while I was gone." 

You caught Rick's eye as he glanced over at the two of you and gave you a nod of thanks. You'd keep Merle's fucking mouth busy while he came up with a plan, then you'd carry it out. In exchange, he'd forget this bout of unpleasantness, and keep Merle alive. 

"Ain't much to tell. World went to shit. Me and Darylina got the hell out of dodge and wound up with these guys," Merle said with a shrug. 

Your jaw set, hard. "Daryl's alive?" you asked quietly, and Merle snorted out a laugh. 

"Yeah, baby, he's alive. Out huntin' for these assholes and the ones still outside the camp." 

You nodded. "I ain't doing you anymore favors, dickwad," you told him abruptly. "Got me thrown in jail in King fucking County. I almost died in a cage because of your shit." 

Merle's laugh was long and loud. "Well, hell, baby. Ol' Merle's sorry, sugar-" 

"Call me sugar tits and I'll beat your ass," you warned him, standing when Rick caught you eye and motioned you over. "Hang tight and keep your mouth shut while you come down, 'kay?" 

 

 

Glenn refused to take you or the deputy down into the creepy dark hole, and you were fine with that. If he wanted you to cover everyone's asses, you'd cover everyone's asses. 

"Sorry for the gun in your face," Andrea said to the deputy, and you snorted and moved a little away from them. You ignored them until you heard Rick tell her to take the safety off next time. That made you laugh, short and sharp. She shot a look your way, but Rick was showing her what to do. 

You leaned your elbows against the jewelry display, watching the zombie outside with the rock. It really wasn't fair. They were supposed to be Night of the Living Dead style- dumb and slow. Not smart and quick. 

"Hey, Deputy Grimes. If I take some shades and some shiny things, you gonna arrest me?" you called, eyeing the shit in the display. 

"Do you actually want some of it, or are you just practicing being a criminal for kicks?" he asked, and you looked up at him and grinned. 

Andrea was eyeing a necklace, though, and she blushed. "Would it be considered looting?" she asked seriously. 

"Don't think those rules apply anymore. Do you?" Rick asked, gesturing toward the doors. 

"I already took two pair of sunglasses. Stock the fuck up, I say," you put in, and the walker with the rock smashed through the outer door. 

"Fuck," you said, grabbing your gun and rushing around to cover the deputy. At that moment, Glenn and Morales came up, out of breath. 

"What'd you find down there?" Rick asked. Only one door was broken, and the second set was still holding. For now. 

"Not a way out." 

 

Sound and smell drew them. You saw it the minute Rick came up with a plan, and you sighed. 

"No," you said firmly, just like last time. 

"YN-" he started, ducking his head and looking at you, and you cut him off again. 

"No!" 

"It's the-" 

"Deputy, you're an idiot. No, no, and once more, no!" 

 

He didn't listen to you. He didn't listen to Glenn's hilarious "If bad ideas were an Olympic event, this would take the gold." He didn't listen to anyone, and somehow, he drug your unwilling ass along with him. 

Covered in guts, through the street full of zombies, with him and Glenn. 

You weren't sure when, but you'd started looking at them as your responsibility, just like you would have members of the Nameless. You were the enforcer, and this was what you did- stupid shit to watch your people's backs. Fuck it all. 

Rick had left the handcuff key with T Dog, which made you pretty tense. Leaving one of your own on the roof and helpless was hard. Especially since it was Merle.   
Had to be done, though, and you planned on being back to take care of him yourself. 

It was working, too, much to your surprise. Until it started raining, and it wasn't working anymore. 

"Rick?" you hissed, looking at the walkers all around you. 

"Run," he said grimly. 

 

You made it over the fence, but barely, and shucked your gut-covered coats as you pulled your gun. You fired again and again as they climbed the fences, until Glenn yelled your name and you were hauling ass into the truck. 

You got to watch the fence fall down from the sheer weight of them in the rear view. 

Rick was talking to Glenn at a mile a minute. "Those roll down doors in the front of the store? That area? That's what I need cleared. Raise your friends, tell them to get down there and be ready." 

"How are we drawing them away?" you asked, and Rick's jaw did that tightening thing. 

"Noise." 

 

Stealing loud a loud as hell car sounded like fun. Rick smashed the window of a bright red beauty and you grinned. 

"Glenn, you're driving. I'll cover you," you told him, swinging into the passenger seat as the alarm started to blare. 

"You sure?" Rick asked, and you nodded. 

"It's my job to cover your asses. Get them out, and Deputy? Don't leave him behind," you warned steadily. 

He nodded. 

Glenn punched the gas, and you were off. He drove like a maniac, even as he yelled into the radio. You were laughing as the dead followed you closely, Glenn letting them get extremely close before punching it again and whipping the car around flawlessly. 

"Shit, kid, you can drive!" you yelled, and he was laughing with you. You shoved yourself out the window, gun in hand, and started firing into the crowd following you, picking them off one by one until Glenn yelled at you not to waste bullets. 

He had a point there, you conceded, and slid back in. 

"That good enough?" you asked him as you looked at the surrounding buildings. 

"Think so," he agreed, and laid it open, heading for the highway out of the city. 

 

 

The siren was still whooping as he cruised up the dirt path to the quarry. A sea of angry faces greeted him as he climbed out, including- oh shit- Deputy Walsh himself. 

God was a cruel and vicious bastard, if he existed, you decided as you popped the hood while Shane yelled at Glenn. He froze and looked up as you opened your door and stepped out. You leaned against the open door and raised your pierced eyebrow at him. 

"You gonna get that or should I, Officer Walsh?" you called over the sound of the alarm. Shane jerked and bent over the engine, fiddling, and the alarm shut off. You walked around the car and leaned against it while Shane was under there and some other blonde yelled at Glenn about her sister. Your bet was she meant Andrea. 

Shane stood back up and you smirked at him. "Remember me, asshole?" you snapped, and hauled off and punched him in the face. "That's for leaving me in a cell to get fucking eaten!" 

You turned on your heel and walked toward the approaching van while Shane started yelling at Glenn, a smile on your face. Rick was going to shit a brick if this was his partner. People started running out of the back of the truck as you walked up to Rick. 

"Hey, man, you are never going to guess who's here," you started, but he put a hand on your shoulder and gave you a look. "What? What is it, Deputy?" 

"Listen, YN-" He started, with that serious-concerned expression that had your shoulder blades tightening. 

"Hey, Officer Friendly! Come say hello!" Morales called, and Rick looked over his shoulder and his face paled. 

You whirled, afraid it was some new threat as your hand dropped toward your gun, but Rick was darting past you and running while a little kid ran toward him, screaming 'Dad!' at the top of his lungs. 

No way. Oh, no, no, no fucking way. But apparently, way. 

Even you got a little misty as Deputy Grimes crashed into his son and the woman who must have been Lori, the wife. Everyone else, who obviously knew the wife and kid, were looking shocked and awed and teary eyed at the reunion going on, but suddenly it hit you. 

Merle wasn't there. 

Your eyes narrowed and you rounded on the nearest person, who happened to be T Dog. "Hey! Where the fuck is Merle?" you snapped at him, and his eyes dropped guiltily. 

 

 

They'd left him, handcuffed to the roof. They'd left Merle handcuffed to the roof, and you were pissed. T Dog swore it was an accident, swore up and down he hadn't meant to drop the damn key, and that he'd been going to unlock Merle when it happened. He said, and you believed him, damn it, that he'd chained the door to the roof so the biters couldn't get in. That was the only reason he was still fucking alive, and as you sat by the fire and listened to all these people talk, you tried to set aside the anger. 

But you couldn't, because it was Merle. Angry, high as a kit, racist asshole that he was, he was your family- beyond the fact that he was Nameless. 

"Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon?" the old man, Dale, asked suddenly. "He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind." 

"No, he fuckin' won't," you agreed, and all eyes turned to you. "Sorry, Rick. Mrs. Grimes," you muttered, conscious of the attentive eyes of Carl. 

"I've heard worse," the kid said from where he snuggled in his dad's lap, and you grinned at him. Lori eyed you like she wanted to ask why the hell Rick even knew you, but didn't say anything. 

"Point remains," you said coolly, rubbing absently at your thigh, high up near your hip, where in your youth you'd done something stupid and gotten a tattoo. A specific tattoo, which you regretted to this day. "He's going to be pissed, Rick. More so than I am," you added with a hot glare in T Dog's direction. 

"I'll tell him. I dropped the key. It's on me," T Dog said grimly, and you held his gaze for a minute longer before shaking your head. 

"No. I will. It'll be at least slightly better coming from me. He knows me." 

"Yeah, that begs the damn question-" Shane started, shifting a little as he glared out at the fire not far away where Ed, Carol, and Sophia Peletier were gathered. There'd been an incident already, and you got the feeling Ed was the kind of guy you'd end up killing if you spoke to him for more than two seconds. "What the hell are you doin' with a Nameless I busted on possession, man?" 

"Hey. I have a name, Deputy Walsh, and you only busted me because you were profiling like crazy!" you snapped, annoyed at his tone. He shot you a look and raised his eyebrows. 

"You carrying seller's weight in weed, girl?" he asked pointedly, and you scowled. 

"Not the point! I was doing someone a favor. And you left me in a cell to get eaten when one of your damn fellow deputies turned zombie!" you fired back. 

Chuckles ran around the campfire as Rick shook his head and intervened. "She saved my life out there a few times. I saved hers back. She's a good person." 

"Oh Jesus, Officer, don't disparage my character like that," you protested. "I'm most certainly not a good person. I'm a criminal, thank you very much, and a damn good one. Walsh's profiling here aside." 

Rick was shaking his head and smiling at you fondly. "Sorry, YN, didn't mean to insult your professional standing. We're allies. On the way to friends, maybe," he winked at you and you laughed. 

"Oh, I don't know, Deputy. I'd say we're pretty close to being friends at this point. Of course, you left my friend- someone I care about very much- handcuffed to a building, so I'm starting to rethink our relationship at this point," you finished, eyes going flinty. 

"Like I said, it's on me," T Dog repeated. "Not Rick's fault." 

"I cuffed him. That makes it mine," Rick answered. You sighed. 

"It's not a competition," Glenn spoke up and you smirked at him. 

"We could lie," Andrea's sister put in, and you turned your glare on her. 

"Or tell the truth. I get that you care about him- though I don't see how- but he was out of control. Something had to be done or he'd have gotten us killed. Rick did what was necessary. And if Merle got left behind, it is nobody's fault but Merle's," Andrea said stonily. 

You opened your mouth to respond, ready to defend the man you'd adored as a kid, but Dale beat you to it. 

"And that's what we tell Daryl? Word to wise, when he gets back from his hunt tomorrow, we're going to have our hands full." 

 

 

"Daryl! Daryl! Wait up, you butthole!" you yelled, jogging through the woods behind your trailers. 

"Would you stuff it?" Daryl hissed from right over your shoulder, and you jumped, hand coming to your suddenly racing heart. He scowled at you, and you placed your hands on your hips and glared back fiercely. 

"Daryl Dixon, you scared the shit out of me! Don't you know better'n to sneak up on a lady?" 

"Ya ain't no lady, your my friend," Daryl muttered and the two of you grinned at each other. "C'mmon, but be quiet. I'm lookin' for a buck," he added, gesturing you further into the trees. 

He held a crossbow in his hands, and at barely ten, you knew the draw was too strong for him. Hell, the whole freakin' bow was too big for him, what with it being Merle's and all. 

"Merle know you've got that?" you asked as you fell in step beside him. Sneaking through the trees came easy, since you'd been doing it with Daryl and Merle for years, and you knew without having to think about it too hard where to place your feet so the leaves and twigs on the ground didn't rustle or crack. 

"Merle won't care; he got picked up today. Pretty sure they're gonna throw 'im in juvie again." 

"Shit, Daryl," you whispered, concerned for both of them. "You want me to leave my window open tonight?" 

"Naw," he said, throwing you a concerned look. "Your house is worse'n mine. Plus, ya'll get in trouble if that asshole finds out. My daddy don't give a shit. I'll leave mine up for ya, though. Just in case." He flashed you a soft smile and you smiled back. 

How in the world he thought your place was worse than Will Dixon, you didn't know. Wasn't like your foster dad beat you or anything, and Will did beat Daryl and Merle. Mostly Merle, because he protected Daryl, but when Merle wasn't around and Daryl wasn't quick enough- 

You'd seen him with some bruises and some welts from Will's belt a few times too. 

"C'mmon, Dixon, where's this buck you think we're gonna get?" you asked, not wanting to think about things like that anymore. It was a beautiful afternoon, warm and sun shining, and there was no room in it for mean, nasty dads- foster or real.


	5. You Give Love A Bad Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> sexual innuendo

Rick offered you a place in their tent, but you crashed in Merle's instead. He wouldn't have cared if he was there- you'd taken over his bed for six months when you'd first arrived in Atlanta, before you'd scored a fake id that said you were eighteen so you could rent your own place; he wouldn't mind sharing a tent- and with him not there to object, it just seemed easiest. You slept fully dressed, in your jacket, boots, holsters, and all, and were up before the sun the next morning. You climbed the roof of the RV to where Shane was on watch, scanning the woods and the surrounding area with binoculars. 

"Morning, Officer," you drawled, and he shot you a glare. 

"What do you want?" 

You sighed and stepped closer. "Do you really hate me just for being Nameless, man? Cause that's pretty classist of you." 

He narrowed his eyes at you like he couldn't decide if you were kidding, before his shoulder jerked. "Don't hate you. Just wanna know what your angle is. How'd you end up with my boy Rick there? Why'd you help him? People like you and people like us- we're enemies. Through and through." 

You shrugged, standing beside him and panning a look around the quarry. "We were, no question. Then one of your kind tried to take a bite out of me through the cell bars, and I realized there's really no kinds anymore. Just- as Rick put it to Merle- white meat and dark meat." 

Shane snorted. "Sounds like Rick. Why you stick up for that redneck trash Merle so bad? You and him shackin' up?" 

"You and Lori?" you shot back without thinking, going for the most insulting thing you could think of, but he flinched. "Oh sweet baby Jesus, you and Lori?" you whispered, looking at him wildly. 

He glared. "Keep your damn mouth shut, ok? I thought he was dead. I tried to get him out of that hospital, but I thought he was dead! We both did," he trailed off, and you nodded. 

"I won't tell him. But maybe the two of you outta," you muttered, and shrugged when he looked at you. "Secrets fester, Officer Walsh. And to answer your question, no. I'm not shacking up with Merle. Never have, never will. He's like a brother to me, is all. Sponsored me to the Nameless; got me in." 

Shane jerked his eyes away from you, jaw working as he went back to watching the area. "Still don't see why you helped Rick." 

"I needed someone to watch my back while I got back to Atlanta. I was lookin' for people too," you snapped, finally getting annoyed. "Look, what is your problem with me, man?" 

"Don't have a problem with you. I've got a problem with anything that compromises the safety of this group, and you're a loose cannon. Just like the Dixons." 

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Deputy Walsh? You've got no idea. But I'm an enforcer. You know what that means? It means I get between my family and trouble. I back them up and watch their backs. I'll do that for anyone here that'll do the same for me." 

You left him up there as the sun started to come up and went to see how you could help the camp. 

 

 

You were helping Lori, Andrea, and Amy hang clothes, shouting up to poor Glenn as he mourned the stripping of the red charger, when Rick finally got up and wandered over. 

"Hey, Deputy," you called. "Bout time you got your ass up." 

"Morning," Rick said with a glance at you, but he only had eyes for Lori. She was giving him that little smile back, the couple's smile, and you shook your head and exchanged amused looks with the sisters. 

"How'd you sleep?" Lori asked Rick. 

"Better than I have in a long time," he answered, and you pressed your lips together to keep from laughing out loud. 

"Well, glad somebody got laid," you muttered in an aside to Andrea as you headed up to Glenn. She snorted a laugh that she disguised as a cough when Rick turned to look over his shoulder. You winked at him, and he glared. 

Shane pulled up then with a Jeep full of water, and you were helping to get the huge jugs down when the screaming started and everyone began running toward the source. You froze, torn for a moment, but decided the best place for you to be was watching everyone's backs. You grabbed a crowbar from the ground and tossed it to Rick with a shout of his name, and he snatched it out of the air with a nod before disappearing. 

 

 

You were waiting back at camp, covering people's butts while the menfolk did their thing with the walker. You leaned against the truck, arms crossed loosely but eyes busy behind the aviator shades you'd pilfered in Atlanta. You were ready to spring into action if needed, of course, but you really doubted that you'd need to. Deputy Grimes, even if you were pissed as hell at him for leaving Merle behind, was good enough to handle whatever was out there. 

There was a lot of yelling and then he strode into camp, string of squirrel in his hands and yelling for Merle. 

Daryl Dixon. Your childhood best friend. The love of your life. 

Your fucking ex. 

"Damn, Dixon. You grew into those arms, didn't you?" you drawled lazily, even as your heart sped up. 

Shane and Rick were coming up behind him, Rick giving you a look as he did, blood all over his fresh white shirt. Daryl had frozen at the sound of your voice, but now he was turning around to face you, eyes hard. 

"Shoulda known you'd fuckin' survive," he sneered, and you rolled your eyes behind your shades. 

"I'm like a bad penny, Daryl. I always turn back up. That how you say hello, though? Really?" 

"What'd ya expect?" he snapped out, stalking closer to you. 

You shrugged, sliding the shades from your eyes and pushing up off the truck. There was a crowd gathering, but you didn't care. "Oh, I don't know. 'Hey, YN, how ya doin'? Glad ya alive. Sorry I dumped ya ass for no reason five years ago and ain't spoken to ya since'?" 

Well, you hadn't meant to let that last one out, though you over-emphasized his drawl mockingly. He glared down at you. 

"Weren't for no reason. My brother came back!" 

You were right in his face, almost pressed up against him. Close enough to kiss; close enough to kill. "And?" 

"You know!" he yelled, eyes flashing with something besides the ever-present anger that you seemed to draw out of him these days. 

You snorted. "Same old Daryl. Your brother's handcuffed to a rooftop in Atlanta. It's these assholes' fault. When you decide to get that stick out of your ass, come find me," you added as you started to step back. 

Daryl's hand shot out and grabbed your arm. "What the hell you say about my brother?" 

You looked at his hand on your arm and then back up at him. "Careful, Dixon," you whispered, biting your lower lip and giving him a suggestive look. "We aren't to the point of hate fucking yet." 

He scoffed and let you go, taking a long step away. You laughed a little. "Ask them about your brother. I was busy trying to save everyone's asses when it happened," you tossed over your shoulder and stalked out into the woods. 

 

 

"Hey, Daryl! You come to see me?" you asked, smiling like a fool when the meeting adjourned and you left the bar to find him leaning against your bike. You came in for a hug, but he pushed off your bike and stepped away from you. The smile started to slide from your lips. 

"Daryl?" you asked uncertainly.

"It's over, YN," he said harshly, not meeting your eyes. 

Wait. What? What the hell? 

"What are you talking about, babe?" you asked softly, arms wrapping around yourself. You gripped the edges of your vest, knowing you had to keep it together. You were flying colors, and Nameless- especially female Nameless- were strong. 

Daryl gestured vaguely between the two of you. "We're done." 

You fought back the churning nausea in your stomach. "What the fuck, Dixon? Why?" you snapped, spine straightening as it sank in that he was really doing this. He was really fucking breaking up with you here, right now, and this way. 

He scoffed, tossing his head as his eyes darted to something behind you. "'Cause my brother's back, that's why. I ain't gonna be your second choice." 

You stood there, poleaxed, as he shot a hot glare over your shoulder before turning and walking away. A moment later, as Daryl hopped into his battered truck and pulled out without looking back, you felt a hand on your arm. 

"You aight, baby girl?" Merle asked, and you gave him a baffled look as your eyes filled. 

"No. No, I'm not." 

 

 

Footsteps sounded in the leaves behind you, and you dashed the tears from your eyes with the back of your hand. You set a sneer onto your lips and used your best cold tone. "What do you want, Dixon?" 

"Not Daryl," Rick's voice was concerned, and you let yourself relax a little. 

"Hey, Deputy. Come to check on me or yell at me?" you asked as you turned around. Rick had his hands on his belt, one hip cocked, and was giving you that knowing look. 

"Check on you. Didn't tell me you had that much history with them both," he said cautiously. 

You snorted. "I grew up with them. Moved to the city and joined the Nameless because that's what Merle did. Daryl too. When Merle was given the choice to enlist or go to prison, he left. Daryl and I got together. I'd loved him for years, and I was over the moon happy. Then Merle came back; Daryl dumped me; and I threw myself into club life. That enough for you, Officer?" 

Rick sighed. "I'm sorry," he said simply. 

You deflated some more, reaching up to fiddle with the bar in your eyebrow. "No big deal. I'll live. Daryl handle the news ok?" 

Rick scoffed a little and looked out at the trees. "You could say that. Shane put him in choke hold after he tried to knife me. We're going back. To get him. And the bag of guns." 

You snorted. "I'm in, Deputy." 

"You sure that's a good idea? Daryl's going." 

"I know. It's Merle, asshole. He's Nameless. Even if he wasn't my friend since I was eight years old, he's still my family. I'm going. No arguments." 

Rick nodded and hugged you unexpectedly. "I'm glad. Need someone to watch my back."


	6. Round and Round

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> references to past threat of rape/molestation of a minor  
> past child abuse  
> references to drug dealing  
> drug use/abuse

Shane intercepted the two of you on the way back, face stony. Rick sighed beside you, and you glanced between them curiously. 

"So that's it then? Just gonna walk off, the hell with the rest of 'em?" Shane asked. 

"I'm not saying to hell with anybody- not you, Shane; Lori least of all," Rick replied sadly. 

"Tell her that!" Shane fired back, and you turned your raised eyebrows on Shane. This rather unexpected love triangle you wished to God you didn't know about was definitely going to bite you in the ass, and soon.

"She knows," Rick said simply, and Shane sighed and changed tactics. 

"Well, look, man, I don't- so could you throw me a bone here? Just- why? Why would you risk your life for a douche bag like Merle Dixon?" 

You bristled, but Daryl beat you to saying anything. You didn't even look at him as he came to your shoulder where you stood arms crossed and hip cocked. 

"Hey, choose your words more carefully." 

Shane tossed him a look. "No, I did. Douche bag's what I meant." 

You snorted at that. "C'mmon, Dixon, you know he's right. He's our douche bag, but he's definitely a douche bag." 

Shane went back to glaring at Rick. "Guy won't give you a glass of water if you were dying of thirst." 

You scoffed, eyeing Shane and wondering if you could take him. Wondering in the back of your mind just how very high Merle'd been since this whole thing started. You ground your teeth as you realized you were going to need to have a long conversation with Daryl about it. You didn't want to have long anythings with Daryl, damn it. He'd barely been able to direct two sentences at a time to you in five years. 

"What he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me," Rick said in that reasonable tone you'd heard a few times. Usually just after you'd pissed him off. "I can't let a man die of thirst-- me. Thirst and exposure. We left him like an animal caught in a trap. That's no way for anything to die, let alone a human being." 

 

 

"Daryl! Merle! I found something!" you called, eyes shining as you raced up to them. They were gearing up in their backyard, bows on the ground and knives in hands as they tested their sharpness before shoving them into sheaths already on their belts. 

"What?" Daryl asked sullenly, glaring at you, and you went still for a minute. You knew that tone, that look, the way he moved. 

You crossed your arms and pressed your lips together. "Did you clean it, however bad it is?" you asked bluntly, and Merle glanced at Daryl with a look of surprise. Daryl glared at you harder. 

"Ain't nothin'," he muttered, shoulders hunching. 

"Little brother," Merle started, reaching for him, and Daryl jerked his shoulder out of the way, rounding his glare on Merle. 

"I said ain't nothin'!" 

Merle nodded, once, jaw set. You could see him struggling, guilt churning in his eyes. He was leaving for Atlanta in two days, leaving Daryl behind with Will. And leaving you behind as well. 

"I found something," you said again, forcing the thought of Merle being gone out of your mind. "In one of your traps. Come see!" 

"Hell, girl, it's a trap fer a reason," Merle commented as he grabbed his crossbow from the ground. "What's so special about it" 

"This isn't a rabbit, asshole," you said cheerfully. "Pretty sure it's a chupacabra!" 

It wasn't, of course; it was just a stray dog that Daryl and Merle had only narrowly avoided being bitten by, but that had been a golden memory of an afternoon, sunshine and laughter and jokes in the still, green forest. 

 

 

"So, you and Daryl? That's your big plan?" Lori asked from the fire, and you could read how pissed off she was in her tone. 

"And me," you added, raising one hand and smirking at Shane. Rick nodded at you, then sighed and turned to Glenn. He didn't say anything, just looked at him, and the kid made a face. 

"Come on!" 

Daryl snorted softly beside you as Rick tried to convince him. "Weird ass rescue mission he's settin' up," he muttered, and your eyes whipped to him in surprise. 

Daryl never spoke to you unless he had to. He scowled when you looked at him and jerked his head. "What?" 

"You talking to me now, Dixon?" you murmured, shifting to watch the rest of the group instead of looking at him. If you looked at him too long, you'd start to remember things- how those hands, fiddling with his knife right now, felt laced through yours; how his rough, cracked lips felt on your skin; how safe you'd always felt beside him before. 

Not anymore, you thought grimly. Not anymore. 

"Know ya'll be first in line to try'n rescue my brother," he muttered, and you scowled. 

"Fuck you, Dixon," you shot back under your breath, then smirked and tossed him an arch look. "Oh wait. I don't do that anymore." 

You stepped away from him before he could respond, tuning into the argument again. Lori was protesting that Merle wasn't worth one of your lives, even with the guns thrown in. You shook your head and stalked off, toward the Dixon tents and Merle's bike. 

You'd seen it when you got there, of course, and God how you wanted to ride. Now, though, you ran a hand over the ape hangers gently, a smile playing on your lips as you thought about how much Merle would bitch about those things after a long ride. You'd told him over and over that buying the bike just because it looked cool had been a mistake, but he was too damn stubborn to replace it. 

You'd taken care of it while he was overseas, keeping up with the maintenance and riding it some yourself. Daryl'd ridden it on a few rides with you as well, though he'd scowl and joke that most of the fun of biking with you came when you held on tight and rode behind him, not being on separate bikes. You'd laughed and said coolly how you weren't anyone's bitch, but later that night you'd curled up in his arms and whispered in his ear that you'd ride pillion for him anytime- him and only him. 

Now you leaned onto the saddle, stretching your legs out and crossing your ankles as you watched the argument. Shane and Rick were talking about the walkies, why the CB wouldn't work for Rick to connect with Morgan when he got close. Rick reassured the kid, Carl, and then was asking Dale for tools. You sighed, starting to get impatient, and pulled your guns from your holsters one at a time to check how many rounds you had left. Half a mag in each, and you sighed. That'll have to be enough. 

Daryl was just as impatient as you, and you grinned as he stalked past you and jumped into the cube van. He used his foot to blast the horn, and you met Rick's annoyed eyes as you rose, holstering your second gun, and grabbed the shades hooked to your shirt. 

"C'mmon, let's go!" Daryl yelled, and you headed for the back of the van. 

 

 

You sat at the back, as close to the door as you could get, and hoped no one would try to talk to you. It was hot as hell in there, and you ended up shucking your leather jacket and vest, tossing them beside you as you leaned back and closed your eyes. 

"First time I seen you without colors in years," Daryl's voice broke the silence, and without opening your eyes, you flipped him off. 

"Ain't complainin'. Just surprised. Surprised ya runnin' with a damn cop, too. And that ya let them handcuff my brother. What's all that about loyalty and shit in the Nameless pledge? Guess it's all pretty fuckin' meaningless after all," he continued, and you huffed in annoyance. 

"Deputy Grimes saved my ass in Hick-fucking-ville, Georgia, shithead. I got busted running for your brother as a favor. Don't question my loyalty, to Merle or the club," you snarled. "And he was high as a fucking kite. What the hell concoction was he on, anyway? Sounded just like Will," you muttered, and Daryl's eyes flashed. 

"Don't talk about him," he shot back at you, and you met his glare. "Merle weren't nothin' like him." 

"Not when he was sober," you agreed. "But that racist, sexist garbage he was spewing was all Will." 

T Dog was staring openly, and the other two were just as obviously listening in, but you ignored them. Daryl glared for a minute longer before he sighed. 

"He's got a ton of shit. Been bad, since," he admitted, looking down as his hands. He was fiddling with the strap of his crossbow, and you almost smiled. It was a tell you recognized. 

"Figured," you agreed. "You know if anyone else got out?" 

"Any Nameless, ya mean?" Daryl shot back, the anger back in his voice. 

"Sure, what the hell. Any other members of my family- a family you used to be a part of too, asshole- get out?" Anger was a rising tide in you as well, and you were back to glaring at each other. 

"Naw. Not that I know of. Merle'n I barely made it," he muttered after a second. You nodded and closed your eyes again, tired of looking at his face. Tired of fighting with him already. 

"He was worried bout ya. Wanted to go lookin' for ya," Daryl offered unexpectedly. "So's I," he added, so quietly you almost didn't hear him.

 

 

"Look, I'm just worried about ya. Throwin' yourself into this club stuff. You know most of their shit's illegal. Look at Merle," Daryl said, eyes serious. He was propped up on one arm in your bed, shirtless and sleepy-eyed with his hair all over the place. 

You smiled at him. "I know. I'm careful, Daryl. I haven't been stopped yet. I can handle it," you told him easily, grabbing a faded Def Leppard tee and pulling it over your head. It snagged on your eyebrow ring and you hissed as it tugged, still not used to the thing yet. It was a twenty-third birthday present to yourself, and two weeks into the healing process it still hurt. 

Looked cool as shit, though. 

"It ain't about ya gettin' stopped. It's about ya gettin' killed," Daryl said as you sat down on the side of the bed to tug your boots on and lace them up. His arm snaked around you and he rested his chin on your shoulder, lips brushing your cheek. "Don't want ya hurt. Lost Merle, cain't lose you too." 

"Hey," you said softly, putting your hand over his where it was gripping your shirt. "I'm going to be fine. This is a baby run, you know? A test run to see how well I do. Just some pot, up to the north side. No big deal." You turned to look at him, and he brushed your hair back behind your ear. 

"Still," he whispered. 

You leaned in and kissed him gently. "I'll be fine, Dixon. I'm a tough bitch, remember?" 

He snorted and kissed your palm where your hand lay against his cheek. "I remember." 

You rose and swung on your jacket, vest layered over it. You settled it over your shoulders, swept your hair into a low ponytail, and bent over the bed to kiss him again. "See you tonight? At the bar?" 

"Sure. Love ya, baby," he called as you headed out the door, and you flashed him a grin. 

"Love you back," you called, grabbing your helmet and your keys and heading out the door. 

 

 

The five of you ran along the tracks into the city, leaving the cube van behind. You had to give it to Glenn, he had back doors for his back doors, you could tell. Slipping through holes in fences, climbing up buildings and going over roofs. 

You were beginning to suspect Glenn might have been a cat burglar or something, back in the day. 

"Merle first or guns?" Rick asked, meeting your eyes. Your eyebrows shot up, even as Daryl exploded. 

"Merle! We ain't even havin' this conversation!" 

"We are," Rick snapped. "You know the geography, it's your call," he added to Glenn. 

Ok, you couldn't exactly argue with that. You'd brought the little sneak along for a reason, after all, and you grabbed Daryl's arm when he started to object again, shaking your head. He jerked his arm from you as if your touch burned, and you could feel the heat of his skin lingering on your palm. 

God damn it, you hated him so much. 

"Rick's right. His call," you snarled, harsher than you'd intended. 

"Merle's closest. The guns would mean doubling back. Merle first," Glenn declared, and that was that. 

 

Sneaking in was a hell of a lot easier than sneaking out had been, and Daryl proved that he'd spent the last five years using that crossbow and not letting it gather dust. Unlike you, he'd obviously been spending his time out in the woods still, just like when you were kids. 

You'd been too busy trying to lose that part of yourself in the urban jungle. You'd been a city girl since the moment you set foot in Atlanta, and if you'd tried to hit anything with that bow? Ha. You'd stick to guns and knives, thanks. 

 

 

"If ya gonna follow me around all the damn time, might as well learn to shoot," Daryl said, a challenge lighting his eyes as he held the crossbow out to you. 

You eyed it dubiously, knowing it pushed the limits of his draw strength and your own was going to be shit compared to his. After Merle left, Daryl'd started bulking up, privately. You knew he was prepping to take out his old man, and you approved one hundred percent. 

At fifteen, you also approved of the way he was starting to fill out the shirts he insisted on ripping the sleeves out of, though you'd have rather died a thousand deaths or be locked alone in a dark room with your foster dad than admit that. Well, not so much the bit about your foster dad, because he was a creep and made you feel like you needed a shower when he looked at you too long. But dying? Yeah, you'd rather be dead than admit you liked Daryl. 

He was your best friend, after all; you weren't supposed to think about how good his arms looked, or how you'd like to know what his hands felt like on your bare skin as you watched him haul the bolt into place. 

"I highly doubt that I can do that, Dixon," you admitted, and he grinned. 

"I can adjust the draw for ya a little. C'mmon, YN. It'll be fun. We'll start with aim, 'kay?" He held it out and you took it slowly. His grin was infectious, and the dare lighting his eyes was calling to the competitive spirit that bonded the two of you and made you such good friends. 

He stepped to your side, adjusted your grip, and moved around you as he told you how to stand and how to hold the thing up. Your heart was pounding so hard you hoped he couldn't hear it, or see your pulse jumping in your throat as you swallowed. His hands ghosted over you lightly, casual touches that meant nothing to him as he moved your hand or pushed your elbow up or tapped your hip to get you to shift your weight. Then he was standing behind you, arm circling you to point forward toward where he wanted you to shoot. He rested his other hand on your shoulder, fingers brushing the side of your neck casually as he leaned over your shoulder, cheek next to yours, and spoke almost into your ear. 

You shivered a little as he whispered to you.

"Deep breath in, let it out, and shoot." 

You shot, and it hit dead on target. 

"Yeah! Just like that, baby!" Daryl yelled, grabbed you in a hug. 

Shit, you thought, knowing full well you were head over heels in love. 

 

 

Up the stairs at a run, and T Dog clipped the chain with his borrowed bolt cutters. Daryl kicked the door open and the two of you were through it at a run. Maybe you hated each other now, but one thing you could both agree on was your loyalty to one stubborn, drug addicted asshole who probably didn't deserve it. Not anymore. 

"Merle! Merle!" Daryl was yelling, but your eyes went unerringly to the place you'd seen him last, and you heart stopped. 

He wasn't there. 

A puddle of blood, a rusty hacksaw, and a fucking hand were.


	7. Livin' On A Prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> threat of torture  
> past torture

You punched Rick. 

Not the best method of working out your grief, but hell- you were pissed. 

"I told you not to leave him!" you yelled, and he staggered back a step. He started to respond, but his eyes snapped to Daryl and he whipped out the Python, aiming it at his head when Daryl aimed the crossbow at T Dog. That was enough to snap you out of your own rage, and you looked around more carefully.

"I won't hesitate," Rick hissed to Daryl. "I don't care if every walker in the city hears it." 

You gave a long-suffering sigh and shoved down both their weapons at once. "Boys, keep it in your pants. He's not dead- look at the blood, Dixon. There's not enough of it." 

You walked away from them, heading to the wall and scanning the city. Merle was hurt, running from the zombies, and most likely was still strung out. Where would he be trying to go? The bar? His apartment? Hell, yours? 

"Daryl, there a trail we can follow?" you asked, turning around in time to see Daryl tuck Merle's severed hand into Glenn's backpack. Glenn had that look of pained resignation you'd seen before and you laughed harshly. 

Daryl shot you a glare. "What's so funny, bitch?" 

"Bite me, asshole," you snapped immediately. "He must have used a tourniquet. Can you find a trail?" 

"Why don't ya do it yourself? You were a tracker, once," Daryl snarled back, sniping at you because that's just what you did now. The other three were exchanging looks as you stalked forward. 

"I haven't been in the woods in fuckin' years until yesterday, dickhead. I can track a tweaker at a party, but I can't track shit that isn't human. Not anymore." 

"Yeah, guess that's somethin' else ya left behind, huh?" he muttered, staring at the ground and stepping carefully around a trail of blood that ok, even you could see now. 

"Who left who the fuck behind? Who dumped who, Daryl?" you snapped, and Rick's hand came to rest on your shoulder. 

"Maybe we should focus on finding Merle?" he said softly, and you drew in a deep breath through your nose before nodding sharply. 

 

The first night without him was a nightmare. You hadn't slept alone in years; not since the night your foster day had sneaked into your room and you'd climbed into Daryl's window instead. You were shocked, thinking back, to realize that'd been nearly a decade ago. Nine years since you'd last slept in a room alone, much less an apartment. 

You didn't really do much sleeping that night. 

He'd left things in your place, though he'd packed a fair bit before hand. Apparently he'd planned it, then. Merle'd been back for a week, and three of you had hung out nearly every day in all that time. He hadn't given you even a hint that anything was wrong. 

Hell, the night before, you'd all been in the bar together, three of you clustered around a small table near the door. He'd headed to the bathroom, and you and Merle had been doing shots. You were laughing and talking, both of you on your way to downright drunk, both wearing your colors. 

You were getting looks from the gathered crowd, because you weren't in one of the Nameless' bars, but you didn't care. The band started up with a crash of drums and a wailing guitar, and Merle pulled you up and onto the dance floor. You'd been giggling drunkenly, beer in your hand and Merle's arm around your hips from behind as you danced when you'd noticed Daryl watching the two of you from your table. 

You'd broken away from Merle, laughing as he tried to keep you there with him, and headed back Daryl's way. You leaned into him and hooked an arm around his neck, falling into his lap and dragging him down for a hot kiss. 

You had them both home again, you were Nameless, and you were happy. Then out of nowhere, he was gone. Just gone. 

The next morning you'd gotten maybe four hours of sleep. You were a mess when Merle showed up at your door. He ran a critical eye over you and you scowled when he brushed by you and stood, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. 

"Ya look like hell, girl," he told you flatly, and you flipped him off. 

He wasn't wrong, and you knew it. You were hungover as hell, holding a coffee mug and a throbbing headache from the bottle of Jack you'd put a hurting on sometime around midnight the night before. You were exhausted and nauseous and your eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and endless crying. 

"What are you doing here, Merle? I hope to God we're not getting called in, because there is no way I can ride a bike today. Sorry," you muttered, taking a long, scorching hot swallow of coffee and wincing as it burned all the way down. Perfect. 

"Came to check on ya. And my idiot brother wanted me to come see if he'd left some shit behind," he admitted, rubbing a hand over his head. "Darlin', we gonna be ok? Don't know what that asshole is thinkin', but he'll come around. Promise." 

You sighed, scrubbing a hand over your filling eyes. "We're good, Dixon. He left some things. I'll help you gather it up." 

 

 

Merle'd taken out two of the zombies on his own, you discovered as you followed his trail. Daryl and Rick kept trading verbal pot shots with each other as you went, but you kept silent now. You were stewing, pissed as shit that the world ended, the dead were walking, and you were stuck with two officers of the law and your damn ex. If you didn't find Merle or any others of the Nameless, you were considering tossing yourself off the edge of the quarry, or better yet a rooftop here. You liked Rick well enough, and Shane was an asshole but the kind of asshole you were used too, but seriously? 

Daryl Dixon? 

It wasn't that you weren't glad he was alive still- you'd loved the jerkwad once upon a time- it was just that you couldn't stand to sight of each other anymore. 

"He cauterized the stump," Rick declared, jaw clenching, as he held the iron. Glenn looked like he wanted to puke, like he had while you'd been getting decorated with walker guts. 

"Told you he was tough," Daryl muttered. He exchanged a look with you as he spoke, and you read the worry in his eyes even as he continued brashly. "Nobody can kill Merle but Merle." 

"He's lost a lot of blood," Rick cautioned, but you snorted. 

"Didn't stop him from breaking out of this death trap," you said, gesturing to the broken window. 

"He left the building? Why the hell would he do that?" Glenn asked. 

"Why not?" you shot back, and Daryl nodded. 

"He's out there alone as far as he knows. Doin' what he's got to do. Survivin'."

 

 

Daryl and Rick got in a fight- again- and you broke it up. Again. The agreement was to check a few blocks around, as long as Daryl kept his temper under wraps, and you got the bag of guns first. 

Just made sense to have the firepower safely in hand, and T Dog's declaration that he wasn't strolling the streets of Atlanta with just his good intentions made you snort out a laugh. Seemed fair enough to you. 

"You're not doing this alone," Rick said firmly, and you nodded in agreement. 

"Even I think it's a bad idea, and I don't like you much," Daryl muttered. 

"It's a good idea, ok, if you just hear me out," Glenn insisted, and you and Rick glanced at each other. 

"If we go out there in a group, we're slow, drawing attention. If I'm alone, I can move fast. Look-" he said, and started explaining. You had to admit it was a good plan, over all. He included two avenues of retreat, being covered from both directions. 

"Hey kid, what'd you do before all this?" Daryl asked, looking at Glenn's diagram drawn in sharpie on the floor. Glenn turned that innocent expression up and looked from face to face. 

"Delivered pizzas. Why?" 

You snorted. Yeah, you were even more convinced now that he'd been a thief. Or a drug runner. Or something. "It's not a bad plan, kid, with one addition," you said, and held his eyes. "I'm going with you." 

"Like hell," Daryl exploded, and Rick was shaking his head. 

"That's not smart either, YN-" he started, and you tossed him a glare. 

"Thought you were dead against Glenn going alone a minute ago? Look, Glenn, you're fast and quiet. So am I, even if I haven't been in the woods. Daryl can cover both of us with that beast of a crossbow, and I can watch your six out there. I'm going." 

He hesitated for a beat longer before nodding. "Ok." 

 

Getting the guns went off without a hitch. Then some Vatos came out of fucking nowhere and managed to get Glenn in the car with them. They tried to get you, too. They tried. 

Daryl shot one of them in the ass and you were pretty sure you'd broken the arm of another when they stuffed Glenn in a car and disappeared, leaving behind some punk-ass kid who looked terrified. He should have been. You picked yourself up off the ground where you'd been slammed down, swiping at the blood from a scrape along your cheek. Your eyes were hard as you started toward the kid, whose eyes got wide as you approached. 

"Hey, hey, hey, YN- no," Deputy Rick got in your path, hand up to stop you. You slapped his hand aside and he grabbed your arm as you tried to go past. You turned your head slowly, eyes going from the hand on your arm to Rick's face. 

"Come on," he said softly. "Allies. Almost friends." 

"They have Glenn," you snarled, and he nodded. 

"Not for long." 

You glared for a minute longer, but the walkers were coming and you needed to move. Daryl covered your asses and you snatched up the bag of guns and handed Rick his hat, slapping it against his chest in disgust. 

 

 

You and Daryl tagged teamed the questioning. It wasn't a decision you communicated, but rather something that just kind of happened. Rick was asking questions and the kid was mouthing off, and you came and stood casually behind Rick, arms crossed. You leveled him with a glare, and when he saw you he went pale again. 

He kept mouthing off, and Daryl was volatile and violent. Rick got distracted holding Daryl back, and you narrowed your eyes at the kid and smirked. "Wanna see what happened to the last guy who pissed us off?" you asked quietly. 

Daryl grabbed Glenn's backpack and dug around in it, coming up with Merle's hand and tossing it in the kid's lap. The screaming was satisfying, and Daryl pulled his knife and handed it to you as you sauntered forward. 

"Think I'm going to start with the feet this time, what do you think, Daryl?" 

"Yeah, feet're good. Cain't run away without 'em," he agreed, grabbing the kid by the shirt. 

Of course, then Deputy Grimes had to interfere, shoving Daryl back and shooting you a look. You shrugged, flipping Daryl's knife around in your hand as Rick started questioning the kid again. That was enough of a threat, you guessed, because the kid started to talk. 

 

 

"Ya know ya gonna talk eventually, man," Merle said with a smile. "Might as well save yourself a little pain and sufferin'." 

"Blow me, asshole. Or better yet, let her." The jerk currently tied to a chair in the backroom of the club jerked his head toward you. You leaned against the door, arms crossed, and raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Sorry, honey; your dad would be mad if I blew you too." 

Merle pressed his lips together like he wanted to laugh but didn't crack. "Might wanna watch ya mouth when ya talk to her. Now, what's a little bitch Vato like you doin' in Nameless territory with that much ecstasy on him? You movin' in our turf?" 

The asshole spat at Merle. In a heartbeat, you unfolded from the door, strode forward, and dealt him a backhand blow that snapped his head to the side and had him spitting blood from a split lip. You lifted your hand and grimaced, then wiped the blood from your brass knuckles onto his shirt.

"Wanna try that again, homie?" Merle asked dryly. 

 

 

The rescue mission went about as well as could be expected, all things considered. Everyone threatened each other, issued ultimatums, exchanged insults. Then you retired to separate corners to figure out what you were doing next. 

You already knew what you were doing next- busting down those damn doors and rescuing Glenn- but you wanted to know how much backup you'd have for the doing of that. Assholes were Vatos, which meant they were your rivals. Flying colors had lead to a lot of shit coming your way, especially when Daryl asked about his brother. They wanted guns and the punk ass kid back in exchange for Glenn. 

You weren't planning on giving them shit, and apparently Rick wasn't either. Which was a damn good thing in your opinion. 

"Could be worth more than them guns. Could be worth your life," Daryl said grimly. "Glenn worth that to you?" 

"What life I have I owe to him," Rick said, meeting your eyes as you nodded. 

 

 

Rescue mission part two was just weird. First it was what you'd expected- guns drawn, standoff, big talk from everyone present- but then the old lady came shuffling in. You smelled something rotten in the state of Denmark, and Rick apparently agreed. 

Your suspicions were correct, and the Vatos were keeping an bunch of elderly people alive and fed. Damn Guillermo, you thought. 

"We were gonna kill all of you," Rick hissed, pissed as hell at the asshole for lying to you. 

In the end, you got Glenn back and left them several guns and boxes of ammo. You gave Glenn a hard once-over before you left the place, to make sure he hadn't been hurt, and blew a kiss at the Vato who's arm you'd broken. 

"Admit it, you only came back to Atlanta for the hat," Glenn teased Rick as the five of you headed back along the tracks to where you'd left the van. 

"Don't tell anybody," Rick agreed with a smile. 

"You've given away half our guns and ammo," Daryl stated, sounding pissed. Daryl always sounded pissed, though. 

"Not nearly half," Rick shot back, and Daryl snorted. 

"For what? Bunch of old farts who're gonna die off soon anyway? Seriously, how long you think they got?" 

"How long do any of us?" you snapped, glaring at Daryl. 

He opened his mouth to respond and probably start a fight, but Glenn spoke first. 

"Oh my god," he said softly, and you looked around. 

"Where the hell's our van?" Daryl asked, and you sighed. 

"Merle," you whispered, and Daryl's wide eyes whipped to you. 

"He's gonna be takin' some vengeance back to camp."


	8. Because Hell, Hell is For Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past attempted rape/non con  
> mentions of past child abuse  
> mentions of past murder

You ran into chaos; shots firing and zombie assholes taking chunks out of people all around the camp. There was screaming and fear and panic, but over all the noise and insanity even you had to admit that Shane kept it together and did a damn good job defending these people. He had Carl and Lori, Carol and Sofia, Morales' wife and kids, Andrea and Jim and Dale all behind him near the Winnebago, covering everyone with his monster of a shotgun and shouting for Morales to make his way to them. Morales and Jim were doing some serious work with a couple baseball bats, but there were too many for them to handle, even with Shane taking control of the situation. 

You had a gun in either hand as your group blazed into the fight, picking the dead off one by one as you waded toward the RV. Daryl fell in at your side, the two of you covering the other three as they pushed forward. Rick was screaming for Lori and Carl, and he ran to scoop the kid up while you and Daryl took down the last two that you could see moving, firing in tandem. 

You scanned the area, checking to make sure the threat was really gone, and Daryl grabbed your arm. He spun you around to face him and his eyes were fierce as he looked you over. 

"Bit or scratched?" he snapped, voice oddly intent. 

You rolled your eyes. "I'm fine, Dixon. Didn't get close enough to them for all that. You?" 

He nodded curtly and let you go just as suddenly as he'd grabbed you, striding away to the other side of the camp without saying another word. 

 

 

Dawn came as the cleanup got under way. The kids were herded into the RV, and Carol and Mrs. Morales went with them while the rest of you started cleaning up. Rick went off to check in with Morgan, using the radio to let him know what had happened and that Atlanta wasn't safe. 

Andrea's sister was among the dead, as was Carol's asshole husband. There were others, people you hadn't even met, who the camp had lost. Daryl was taking a massive pickax to the heads of the dead, and then bodies were being hauled in two directions- the fire for the walkers, and your people were being lined up to be buried. Apparently Jim had lost his freaking mind while you were gone and had dug a shit ton of holes up on the ridge. 

Holes perfect for graves. 

Rick tried to get Andrea to take care of Amy. Andrea whipped a gun on him before Rick even got a word out, and you were two steps in his direction before Shane grabbed your shoulder and held you back. You gave Shane a hard look and he let you go, but shook his head at you when you started forward again.

"I know how the safety works," Andrea said grimly, and Rick backed away slowly. Andrea went back to staring at her dead sister, and you crossed your arms and glared at her as Rick rejoined you.

"That's the second time she's aimed a gun at you, Deputy," you growled, and he smiled at you softly. 

"I know. Thanks for caring," he said, patting your shoulder as he moved past you. You rolled your eyes with a sigh, wishing he was just a little less of Good Person and would let you beat some sense into that woman before she got someone killed. 

"Gonna let her hamstring us? Dead girl's a time bomb," Daryl's voice snarled out from the discussion going on behind you. Your jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as you turned around and glared. You agreed with him in principle, but his aggressive attitude was really pissing you off. He wasn't the only one who was angry and hurting, damn it. 

"What do you suggest? It's her fucking sister," you snapped at him. 

"Take the damn shot. Clean, into the brain. I could hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance!" he fired back, rounding on you. 

You stepped up toe to toe with him and sneered. "No. Let her handle it. You want someone taking that shot from you if it was Merle?" 

Daryl's eyes went wide for a minute before they filled with fury. He leaned in close to you and you hated, hated, the way your pulse kicked up a notch. You licked your lips involuntarily and his eyes followed the motion before they snapped back to yours. 

"Don't ya say shit like that about my brother, bitch," he snarled. 

"Don't be a dumbass then, dickwad," you snarled right back. "Leave her alone. Go bash some more brains in." 

He scoffed, eyes lingering on your mouth for a moment again before he stalked off and you sighed. You absolutely didn't watch him as he walked away. 

 

 

"Don't you walk away from me, Daryl Dixon! I asked who the fuck did this to you!" you screamed after him as he started to stalk into the trees. 

"I said it don't matter!" he yelled back, turning around and shooting that intense glare your way. It shouldn't have made your mouth dry and your heart speed up the way it did, especially considering the state his face was in. 

Someone had beaten the shit out of him between that morning and now. You'd played hooky, ditching school after first period to get high in the woods to work off a particularly rough night. Your foster dad had slapped you across the face twice the evening before for talking back to him, accused you of being a slut because of the cut-off shorts and ACDC tank you'd worn to school and to town to work on some dumb shit group project in the library, and then had paced outside your door for hours, long into the night. He hadn't come in, but you'd heard him jacking off outside your door. 

You'd wanted to sneak out, crawl through the window Daryl left open, but the asshole didn't move away from your door until nearly three am. You'd actually fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion before you could work up the energy to move. 

Your hands had been shaking when you left the house that morning, trying not too look at anyone in the smoke-filled shithole so you wouldn't draw attention. There was a bruise on your cheek. When Daryl'd met you on the road in front of your trailers as usual, he grabbed your arm when you tried to brush past him, head ducked down in shame. 

"Tell me," he'd snapped, and you had. You'd pulled him along until you were out of sight of the trailer, and you'd seen the way his eyes burned and his jaw set as you told him what had happened. He'd helped you ditch, and he'd been bruise free when you left. 

He told you he wanted to go with you, but he'd had a big ass test in chemistry that he couldn't miss, and you'd waved him off, telling him you had some shit from the last time you'd seen Merle, and you'd be in the woods when he could get away. Now it was clear someone had taken a fist to him quite a few damn times. Your hands were shaking again, this time with rage. 

"Daryl, what the fuck happened after I left?" you yelled, getting up in his face. Your eyes fell to his lips when he glanced away from you and bit down on his bottom lip guilty, and you swallowed hard. 

"I punched yer foster dad. He punched back, but harder. Then he got Will involved," Daryl finally admitted. "YN, I'm sorry. I might've made shit worse for ya." 

You sighed, touching his cheek with your fingertips. "Don't worry about it. Let me take care of all this, will you?" you whispered. He was the one who swallowed this time, nodding shortly and leaning into your touch a little. 

 

 

"Reap what you sow," Daryl called as he hauled a body. 

For shit's sake, you thought angrily. Before you could snap at him, Morales jumped in. 

"You know what, shut up man!" 

"Y'all had this comin'! You left my brother for dead!" Daryl yelled, and that was it. You'd been bristling for a fight since he walked into camp with that damn swagger and a string of squirrels. 

"Hey, asshole!" you yelled, striding toward him as you stripped your jacket and work gloves off. You tossed them on the ground as he turned toward you, and you threw the first punch before he realized what was happening. 

You heard someone behind you yell 'holy shit!' but you were focused on the man in front of you. He rolled with the punch and ducked the next one, scowling at you as you reared back for a third. He caught your wrist and pulled you to him, spinning you backward and pining your arms to your sides with his arm around you from behind. 

"What the hell, girl?" he yelled in your ear, and you shoved back with your hips and up with your arms to brake his hold, staggering him back and spinning around tp square up with him. "What the fuck's ya problem, YN?" 

"My problem?" you snarled, swinging at him again and landing a good hit to his jaw that had his head jerking to the side. "My problem is you being a fucking asshole every time I turn around! My problem is being trapped in the zombie apocalypse with two damn police officers and the man who broke my heart. My problem is my only fucking friend got left chained to a roof because he was high as a kite and being an asshole and no one here understands why I give two shits about him!" 

With every word you were swinging at Daryl, and he was backing up and blocking your blows, but not fighting back. What good was a fucking fight if he didn't fight back, damn it? 

"Why ya comin' at me, then?" he yelled back, face hard. "Go at them! They're the one who left ya boyfriend there!" 

"I never fucking slept with your brother, dickhead!" you screamed at him in frustration. Suddenly you were crying, tears falling from your eyes as you stopped trying to swing at him and wrapped your arms around yourself instead. "I never even wanted to!" 

Daryl scoffed, tossing his head and his arms like you were lying about something obvious. "Whatever," he muttered. 

Your eyes narrowed as you started in again, but Jaqui's voice cut through the silence of everyone around. 

"A walker bit Jim!" she yelled. 

Just like that, you and Daryl were on the same side, both of you heading toward the man in the dirt flannel shirt. 

"Show it to us!" Daryl yelled, scooping up the pickax he'd dropped when you came at him. "Show it to us!" 

Instant chaos. 

 

 

Daryl wanted to go on and take Jim out. He was as good as dead anyway, according to Daryl. The deputies wanted to keep him alive, try to find a cure. You honestly didn't give a shit either way, just wanting some decisions to be made. You'd shrugged back into your jacket, and now stood with one hand on the gun on your left thigh- the only one that had any ammo left in it- and kept your eyes on Jim while the others debated. 

The argument turned to where to go from here, since obviously Atlanta and the camp were burned. Deputy Rick argued for the Center for Disease Control in the city. Officer Walsh argued for Fort Benning, a hundred miles away. Rick and Shane were pretty much having a pissing contest disguised as a debate, and they really needed to have a chat about Lori. 

"You go lookin' for aspirin, do what you need to do. Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem!" Daryl exploded, and you were moving before he finished speaking. Rick moved too, and both of you had guns trained on his head as he started to swing the pickax at Jim. 

"We don't kill the living," Rick aid flatly. 

Daryl turned slowly as Shane came around and took the pickax from Daryl. "That's funny, coming from a man ho just put a gun to my head. And from you," he added with a sneer in your direction. "Ever wonder how many living she's put in the ground?" 

"Fuck you, Dixon. That's what you think of me? No wonder you left," you said softly, dropping your gun and walking away before the tears that wanted to fall could. 

 

 

"Merle, damn it, I am fine. It was nothing. Some assholes looking to harass a woman at a bar. I wasn't wearing colors, so they thought they could mess with me," you sighed, holding the ice pack over your eye. It was going to bruise like a sonnova bitch, that's for sure, and you weren't really sure the ice pack was worth using. But Merle glared every time you took it down, so here you were. 

"Well, they gonna find out what happens when they harass a Nameless," Merle snarled, and you sighed again. 

"Don't do anything drastic, would you? I filed a police report, not that it's going to do much good." 

"Fuck the pigs, girl. We'll handle it," Merle said, and you sat up and whipped the ice pack off your eye as you looked at him. 

"Do not put out a hit on a few college age assholes, Merle! My God!" 

"Don't ya worry about it none, YN. Put that ice on ya eye," he growled, standing up and heading toward the door. Along the way, he reached back and adjusted the gun he kept at his back. 

"Merle!" you yelled. 

"Ice!" he yelled back, and slammed the door on the way out. 

 

"Did you kill them?" you asked him bluntly, in his office behind the bar. The door was shut and you leaned against it, arms crossed. 

"Who ya talkin' about, girl?" Merle asked, smirking at you from across the desk. 

Your eyes narrowed and you studied him. His pupils were pinpricks, he had scraped and bruised knuckles, and there were scratches on his neck. So he was high, and he'd been fighting. While that wasn't exactly unusual behavior for Merle, you'd also gotten a couple of... interesting looks on your way through the bar. 

"Don't, Merle. Just tell me," you snapped, and he grinned. 

"Why would I do that? You've got plausible deniability if them pigs ask ya any awkward questions. Let's just say the problem's been handled, girl. Leave it be," he said, and winked at you. 

You sighed and unfolded yourself from the door, opening it and stepping through. "Merle?" you called, looking over your shoulder as you stood in the doorway. 

"Yeah?" 

"Be careful, ok? And thanks," you added softly, and he smiled at you fondly. 

"Anything for my girl," he answered. "Ice that damn face again." 

 

 

You stalked up the ridge to the graves, shedding your jacket again in the heat and snatching up a shovel. Rick was the first to join you, grabbing another shovel and working beside you in silence. 

"I haven't killed anyone, Officer Grimes," you snapped out, huffing as you tossed another shovelful of dirt away. Guilt churned in your stomach as you made the statement, because while true, it left out a whole host of things- like the fact that you were directly responsible for a few deaths. And that you'd covered up more than a few.

"Didn't think you had," he said agreeably, and you stopped and glared at him, hand on your hip. 

"Why not? I'm in a gang. I'm an enforcer. I'm a criminal. Why not a killer? You've seen me shoot. I could do it," you said bluntly, that half-formed knot of guilt making you argumentative. 

Oh, hell, it probably wasn't the guilt doing that. You were just pissed off all the time, and had been for years. You were almost always spoiling for a fight. 

"You could. But you're the kind of person who puts themselves in harm's way to protect others. So you could do it, but you don't." 

You snorted and started shoveling again. "What makes you think you know anything at all about me, Deputy?" 

Rick laughed. "You give away more than you think, YN. With your actions." 

Shane strode up moments later, and the blame game between them began. You sighed as you worked, tossing in a defense for Rick that earned you a harsh glare and a pointed finger from Shane. You raised an eyebrow at him as the truck full of bodies backed up and Daryl hopped out. 

 

 

The funerals- if you could call them that- were difficult for everyone there. You hadn't known any of the dead, not really. The closest you came was Amy, Andrea's sister, and you'd only spent a few hours talking to her. 

When it was over, the arguments began again. You leaned on the seat of Merle's bike, legs crossed at the ankles, and waited for the fireworks to end and the decisions to start being made. 

 

 

You went to your foster dad's funeral, three years after you left. Not out of any kind of respect or love or sense of loss, but solely and completely so you could spit on his grave. 

Of course, you didn't end up doing that, but you wanted to. Your foster family was gathered, all of them wearing black. Your foster mom, who'd been drunk and stoned for most of the time you lived with them- when she wasn't jacked up on speed or some shit so she could play perfect housewife for the CPS bitch-was weeping into one of your brothers' shoulders as they lowered the attempted rapist into the ground. 

When the service was over, your foster family turned and saw you. Your perfect sister- the same age as you, glossy blonde hair, big blue eyes, and pouty lips; the apple of everyone's eye and their bio daughter- glared and frowned. 

You'd made the mistake, once, of telling her about your foster dad's pacing. When you'd heard him start jerking it outside your door every night when you were fifteen, she asked why you always had circles under your eyes. You'd confessed that you didn't sleep much, since you had to stay awake and make sure he didn't come in. She'd called you a liar and a slut and snapped that just because the Dixon boys were willing to screw you didn't mean anyone else was. 

Since neither Dixon brother had ever done any such thing, you'd punched her in her perfect nose. That'd earned you a backhanded slap across the face from your foster dad and a week of no dinner. The no food thing wasn't a problem, since you slipped into Daryl's window every night once your house was quiet and he'd hand you a sandwich and a bag of chips. 

You were pretty sure he'd been stealing the chips. 

Now she saw you, standing at the back of the crowd with both the Dixon boys on either side of you. It was before Merle shipped out, before he got busted one too many times. You'd just earned your prospect's patch six months before, and both you and Merle were in colors. With Daryl in ripped jeans and a leather jacket, even if he didn't have club colors, the three of you made a pretty damn imposing picture. 

None of your foster family did more than sneer in your direction. 

Once everyone else was gone, you walked up to the grave and stood over it for a long time. 

"I wonder who killed him," you asked softly. Merle shifted beside you and you gave him a sharp look. He looked back, his eyes carefully blank.

You never talked about it again.


	9. Run For The Hills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> past drug overdose  
> mentions of past abuse  
> mentions of past threat of rape/molestation of a minor

Everyone was gathered together and quiet when Rick, Shane, and Dale came out of the woods. Some people were trying to look busy, but most of them were sitting in silence and fear and worry. Someone needed to give these people some directions, but it looked like Rick and Shane were still arguing about who was going to be club president. 

Daryl was stalking around camp, all scowls and arm muscles, doing shit that may or may not have needed to be done. He was staying far, far away from where you leaned on Merle's bike. It was almost amusing, considering the glares he'd throw you. Not that you were watching him or anything. 

"I've, ah- I've been thinking about Rick's plan," Shane declared as the three of them gathered around the fire pit with everyone else. "Now look, there are no guarantees either way, I'll be the first one to admit that. I've known this man a long time. I trust his instincts. I say the most important thing here is that we need to stick together. So those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning. Okay?" 

Well halle-fucking-lujah. A plan had been made. 

 

 

You hesitated before ducking into the Dixon tent that night. Daryl brushed past you and went in, fiddled for a few minutes, then brushed back out. 

"I'm on the RV. Take it and sleep," he muttered as he walked by. 

You ground your teeth together, but exhaustion was setting in. You were out before you even really laid down. Sometime in the night, Daryl came in, but you were too damn tired to do more than roll over and fall back under. 

In the morning, you stared at him. He slept on his side, boots on like you and crossbow under his hand. His face was relaxed in a way you hadn't seen in years, and it made your lungs ache and your eyes burn to see it. Once, you'd seen him sleep beside you, in your bed, every damn night. You got that relaxed expression, the lazy smiles, the tried half-open eyes as he woke up every morning. You missed him, plain and simple. You'd been missing him for years.

God, you hated him. 

 

 

"Dixon?" you whispered, hovering outside Daryl's open window. His head popped up and he leaned out. 

"What ya doin', YN? It's three in the mornin'!" he hissed. 

You'd been here for two months and you hated it. The CPS agent had promised this individual placement would be better than the group home in Atlanta, but it wasn't. The kids barely spoke to you, the mom always smelled like drugs and always had a beer in her hand, and the dad? 

The dad made you squirm, even though he was the nicest one of them all. He was always smiling at you, putting an arm around your shoulders, asking you how you liked it here and if things were going good. Maybe you just weren't used to people being nice to you. Maybe. 

The only good thing in all of this was the neighbors. Daryl was in your class and you had started talking to him immediately. You'd seen him slouched down in the back of the classroom and recognized him as the kid who'd trudged to school in front of you that morning. He'd looked up when you dropped down beside him and scowled. 

"Whatcha want?" 

You shrugged. "I'm new. Just wanna sit. YN." 

"Daryl," he'd muttered. By the end of the day, you were fast friends, and he'd drug you over to meet his brother when school let out.

Now you fidgeted outside his window. "He hit me," you whispered. "And sent me to bed without anything to eat." It'd just been a slap, but still. It wasn't the first time you'd been hit as punishment, but it was the first time you'd been hit here.

Daryl looked you over for a minute. "Wanna come in?" 

You hesitated, glancing at your trailer and then at him. "Yeah." 

"C'mon." 

 

"Daryl?" you whispered, voice sounding weird through the tears you couldn't stop. You climbed into the window as you spoke, ducking through with the ease of practice and one hand gripping the window edge above your head.

"Hey," he said gruffly, sitting up and rubbing at his face. "Time's it? What's wrong?" 

"I-" you broke off, stifling a sob by putting your hand over your mouth. "He-" 

"Fuck," Daryl hissed, standing and putting a hand on your shoulder and looking into your face intently in the moonlight. "What'd he do? Ya aight? Want me to wake up Merle?" 

"No, no- I'm fine. He was just there. Outside my door. He kept pacing, back and forth. I don't know- I mean, maybe it was-" You sniffed back the tears, shaking your head even as you tried to talk yourself out of the sick feeling that'd been growing in your stomach since you heard the first step outside the door. Daryl snorted and dropped his hand from your shoulder. 

"Naw, ya know what it was. C'mon," he said, voice more adult than you knew both of you should sound at your age. He tossed back the covers on his little twin bed and scooted toward the far edge. 

"We aren't gonna fit together on this thing much longer," you whispered, but you crawled up anyway. The two of you were thirteen, both of you all gangly limbs and raging hormones, and he huffed a little as your arm brushed his back when you laid down. 

"Guess. Can take the floor if ya want," he offered over his shoulder. 

"No, this is- it's nice. Thanks, Dixon," you whispered, curling up close to him. He tossed the blanket over you and grunted. 

"Yeah. Any time." 

 

The sun was rising, and you headed up the ridge to see if Rick was there. You found him crouched, looking over the city and the sun coming up behind it. You wandered over and sat down beside him, and he rested a hand on your shoulder but kept talking. 

"I'm leaving a note and a map behind for you, taped to a red car, so you can follow our trail. We're heading to the C.D.C. If there's anything left, it's got to be there, don't you think? Morgan... I hope you were right about that place. I need you to be." 

Rick clicked the walkie off and sighed, pinching his nose with his fingers. You patted his leg before gesturing to the sunrise. 

"Come on, Officer. Look at that. World's still turning; you're still living. There's hope," you told him, and climbed to your feet. You held out a hand to pull him up, and he took it and smiled. 

"Thank you," he told you seriously, giving you another unexpected hug. 

You smiled at him as the two of you walked back down. "Never thought I'd be friends with a cop. The apocalypse is weird, man." 

"Oh? We friends now?"

"Yeah, might as well be," you answered with a grin. "My only real friend is somewhere back in Atlanta. Or maybe not. Hell if I know; but he isn't here. Could use a friend, and you're kind of one of those obnoxious good people. You need a ruthless criminal like me to keep you out of trouble." 

You were both laughing as you came back into camp. People were starting to stir, and Carl came running up to Rick as you walked in. Rick smiled at you as you headed to see if you could help Carol with the packing. 

 

 

"Everybody listen up," Shane called as your group finally had everything they were taking jammed into a plethora of vehicles. "Those of you with CBs, we're gonna be on channel 40. Let's keep the chatter down, ok? You got a problem, don't have a CB, can't get a signal, or anything at all, you're gonna hit your horn one time. That'll stop the caravan. Any questions?" 

"We're, uh... We're not going," Morales said. You eyed them, seriously questioning their sanity as they declared their intentions to head toward Birmingham. Whatever, not your problem. 

Rick and Shane decided to give them a gun and a box of rounds, a .357. Daryl scoffed and came over to where you leaned on the truck the two of you had loaded Merle's bike into. 

"Shouldn't be splitting up, or givin' away our damn guns'n ammo," he muttered. 

You stared at him. "What the hell is with you? You're like a damn girl on her period- one minute you act like you fucking hate me, the next you come and talk to me." 

He glared and jerked one shoulder in a shrug. "Don't hate ya. Never fuckin' hated ya. Ain't like none of these people, though. You're the closest thing to a friend I got, now Merle's gone." 

You stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out what to say. "That's sure not what you said last time I saw you," you finally got out, and Daryl looked down, chewing on his thumb absently. The gesture stuck a knife in your gut and twisted, and you were infinitely grateful for Shane's interruption. 

"Come on. Let's go!" 

"See you, Dixon," you muttered, and shoved away from the truck. You weren't about to get in and ride alone in the cab with him. Officer Walsh was a better prospect than that. At least you knew where you stood with him. 

 

 

Your heart was pounding as you hit the sliding doors at a run. You skidded to a halt at the front desk, the nurse looking up at you with bored, stressed eyes. 

"Hi, I'm looking for Dixon? Merle Dixon?" you said, and she tapped at the keys while you struggled to keep breathing, your lungs tight with worry. "I got a call, said he'd overdosed and was brought here. Is he ok? What's going on?" 

"You related?" the nurse asked, squinting at the screen. 

"I'm his wife," you answered without any hesitation. It was a total lie, but one you and Merle had set up after he got back and Daryl dumped you. Since Merle both of you ran a high risk of getting injured on club business, you'd set each other up as your emergency contacts. You'd known that would mean lying about your relationship to him if you wanted any information if one of you landed in the hospital. If pressed, you could provide a fake marriage certificate that would pass a cursory inspection.

The nurse glanced at your hand and noted the lack of rings, but this was Grady Memorial and she was busy. "He's out of danger and in a room right now. They're going to keep him overnight. Room 415, fourth floor and to the left." 

"Thank you," you managed, already moving. In the elevator, you fidgeted impatiently. There was another couple in the elevator with you, and they eyed you as the elevator dinged and stopped on the second floor. A nurse came on, pushed a button, and glanced at you as well. You ground your teeth together in annoyance, wishing you'd left your vest in your saddlebags.

When you finally reached your floor, you shoved your way out and headed straight down the hall to the left. The nurse telling you he was out of danger hadn't done anything to calm your racing heart, and you needed to see him for yourself. 

You opened the door without knocking, halfway in before the person sitting beside Merle registered. Your steps faltered for a minute, but you kept moving forward as he raised his eyes to you. 

"What the fuck are ya doin' here?" he snapped, and you raised an eyebrow at him. 

"It's Merle. I'm his emergency contact." 

"So? Your fault he's in here. You'n that goddamn club," he shot back, rising from his chair. You glared back and opened your mouth to speak, but the door opened again. A doctor came in and glanced between the two of you. 

"Hello," he said cautiously. "I'm Dr. Edwards, Mr. Dixon's doctor." 

"Hey, doc. How is he? What's going on?" you asked, fight draining out of you in your worry for the unconscious man on the bed. 

"I'm sorry- Who are both of you? I'm not allowed to discuss his condition or treatment unless your family," the doctor said, eyeing you and Daryl. 

"I'm his brother," Daryl snarled. 

"And I'm his wife," you added, thinking more about Merle and getting information than about Daryl. 

Daryl laughed once, harshly. You winced, hoping he wouldn't give anything away, and glared at him. He glared back, but didn't say anything. You turned back and listened as the doctor outlined what had happened and what they were going to do. 

"He should wake up very shortly- he was sedated when brought in because he started lashing out at the staff. He'll make a full recovery, but I'm more concerned about his long-term health. Have you considered a rehab program?" the doctor asked seriously. 

You and Daryl glanced at each other. "Considered. He won't go. We'll try to convince him again. Thank you, doc," you said, shaking the man's hand. He nodded and left, and you ran a hand over your face. 

"Daryl, what do we-" 

"Go to fuckin' hell, YN," Daryl snapped, and you whirled to stare at him in shock. 

"What?"

"Ya ain't married to Merle. I didn't say anything to the doc because I know ya give a shit about him, but I ain't doin' it again. Go. He'll call ya when he's home tomorrow," Daryl said stonily, crossing his arms and jerking his head at the door. 

Your eyes filled up. "I'm not going anywhere until he wakes up." 

Daryl's glare intensified. "Fine. If you stay, I'm leavin'. Won't sit around here with ya and watch ya hold his hand. Bad enough ya got a thing for him in the first place, but watchin' ya playact it just isn't on my agenda. You managed to fuck over him and me both by gettin' with me, I guess. Since ya ain't with him and all." 

"I never liked Merle!" you snapped, throwing your hands up. "Four and a half years of this same damn dance, Daryl! What the hell is your problem?" 

He stepped around the bed and brushed past you, shaking your hand off when you grabbed his arm. "My problem? I loved ya since we was kids, and ya wanted my brother until he was gone. I was fine with bein' ya second choice, but then he came back. Wasn't gonna sit around and wait for you to jump ship, YN. So I left so ya could have him, and then I watch him destroy himself without ya!" 

"Merle is just a brother to me, asshole," you snarled, but he scoffed and cut you off. 

"Don't. It don't matter anyway. Stopped lovin' ya a long time ago, bitch," he said, grabbing the door and opening it. "Only stuck around for him. You can stop lyin' about it." 

"I'm not lying!"

He closed the door and turned to glare at you. "I see the way you look at him! You love him!" 

"Of course I do, you asshole-" you started, but he cut you off again. 

"Well, that's good. 'Cause I fuckin' hate ya. Have him text me when he wakes the fuck up." 

Before you could do more than stare in shock and cry, he was gone.

 

 

You swung into the passenger seat of Shane's Jeep and he lifted his eyebrows at you. 

"What the fuck you think you're doing?" he asked mildly. 

"Look, my choices are you or Daryl, so just drive the damn Jeep, ok?" you snapped, scooting down in the seat and propping your feet on the dash. 

Shane grunted and turned the Jeep on, heading out behind Rick and the RV. "Whatever you say, darling." 

"Fuck you, Shane." 

"Naw, I'm taken," he shot back instantly and you felt yourself smile a bit at his fast response. 

"By Rick's wife?" you asked, ready for a distraction. Especially if it irritated the deputy. 

Shane frowned and shot you a glare. "Told you to keep your mouth shut about that." 

You shrugged. "I am. We got a long ride though, if you want to talk about it." 

"No. No, I most definitely do not," he said, jaw working as he reached up one hand and adjusted the hat on his head. You grinned a little more. 

"You know you've got a tell, right?" you said, and he glanced at you without turning his head. "You do the hat thing, or rub your head when you're stressed." You shrugged again. "We can talk about it. I don't mind. Probably the only person you can talk to about it, huh?" 

He was silent and you watched the road going by, pleased to be feeling the wind in your hair. You'd lobbied to ride Merle's bike, but been shot down over the use of gas and how there was no need for that when there were available seats in other vehicles. Shane's Jeep had the cover peeled back, though, so there was at least a little of that open-air feeling a motorcycle would have given you. 

"I love her. And Carl. They're like family to me. I never looked at her before, I swear it. Not until we thought he was dead, and I got them out and kept them safe. We were up here and one day, it just- it just happened," he said finally. "It grew. I love 'em like they're my own." 

"They're not," you said quietly, and he slammed a hand into the steering wheel. 

"You think I don't know that? I do. They're his, and he's my best friend. I'm in love with my best friend's wife. You think I don't know I'm the worst kind of scumbag out there?" 

You laughed. "Officer Walsh, I can assure you you are not. As a professional criminal, I know the worst kind of scumbags personally. You're just a man. Life happened. You still sleeping with her?" 

He looked at you in shock. "No! What the hell kinda-" 

You cut him off. "That's what I thought. Scumbag wouldn't care," you said with another shrug. "The way I see it? You're a victim of circumstances. She's made her choice. It sucks ass- believe me- and being around an ex you care about is more hell than this zombie apocalypse shit. But you aren't a bad guy. You tried your best to get him out- I believe that, Shane. You wouldn't have just left him. And you took care of his family. Bad guys don't do shit like that." 

"Yeah," he muttered after a minute. "Thanks." 

"Any time, Officer. Am I forgiven for being a drug-running gang member?" you teased, looking to lighten the mood. 

He shot you another look, this one with a smirk. "Nope." 

"Good. Got a reputation to maintain, Deputy. Can't be friends with both officers of the law," you told him with a grin, and he laughed.


	10. Watch the Damned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> minor character death (cannon)

The RV broke down. Because of course it did.

"I see something up ahead," Shane commented, looking through the binoculars. "Gas station if we're lucky." 

"Ya'll, it's Jim. It's bad. I don't think he can take anymore," Jacqui said urgently, stepping out of the RV. 

"Rick, you wanna hold down the fort? I'll drive ahead, see what I can bring back?" Shane offered, and Rick nodded. 

"I'll go with you," you decided, pushing off where you'd been leaning against the RV, and Shane gave you a nod. Daryl scoffed from across the group, shaking his head and sneering at you. You flipped him off as you followed Shane to his Jeep. 

"Y'all keep your eyes open now. We'll be right back," Shane called. 

 

 

"Why the hell you volunteer to come with me?" Shane asked, shooting you a look as he drove. You shrugged. 

"My job is to watch people's backs. You aren't so bad a back to watch, Officer Walsh," you muttered. "Plus, I know a little about engines and hoses and shit."

"And you'd rather not be near Daryl if you can avoid it," he said, and it wasn't a question. 

You flipped him off too. 

"So, what the hell happened with you and the Dixons, anyway," Shane asked as you pulled up and cruised to a stop in front of the building. It was a gas station after all, long abandoned and looking like the set out of a horror movie. 

"Now you want to talk?" you said, raising an eyebrow as you pulled a gun from one holster. You stepped from the vehicle and he did too, grabbing that monster shotgun from the backseat. Both of you had eyes roaming as you headed toward the building, steps light. 

"Might as well. Figured I bared my soul a little; you can return the favor," he said with shrug. 

You snorted, gun lifting as a clanking sounded from around the corner. "And you chose now for that conversation?" 

"You're avoiding the younger Dixon. Wanna talk about it?" 

"Not in the slightest," you muttered, and fell silent when he held up a hand. He moved around the corner first and gave you a nod. The outside of the building was clear, then, since you'd moved all the way around it. 

He stood and cocked one hit, relaxing his grip on his gun and grinning at you. "Now see, that's what I said. You over ruled me." 

You sighed, your own gun gripped in one hand at your side. You gestured aimlessly with the other. "We were friends as kids. Best friends. Me and Daryl and Merle. Then Daryl and I were together. Then we weren't, after Merle came back from the army, and I- I don't know why. He said it was because his brother was back. Spent the last five years taking shots at me about my supposed relationship with Merle." 

"You have a thing for Merle?" Shane asked, and you rolled your eyes and glared. 

"For fuck's sake, no. I do not have a thing for Merle. I have never had a thing for Merle. I had a serious case of hero worship when I was a kid, because Merle's four years older than Daryl and I and was our protector. Merle- Merle put himself in Will's path all the time for Daryl. He protected us, and I loved him for it. Like a brother." 

Shane nodded. "Sounds like Daryl's got a stick up his ass over somethin' that isn't an issue. Makes me wonder what put that bug in his ear to begin with. Maybe the two of you outta try having a conversation about that." 

You made a face at him. "We don't really have conversations anymore, Deputy Walsh. In case you haven't noticed." 

Shane grinned. "I have noticed. However, I think you should give it a try. For the good of the group, you know. Don't need any more problems than we have from the walkers." He pulled his gun back up and jerked his head toward the front of the gas station. "Alright, Nameless. Let's check this place out, shall we?" 

You fell in, covering his back. "You know, I think that's the first time you haven't used Nameless as an insult. You coming around to liking me after all, Officer Walsh?" 

"Naw. Maybe tolerate you, but not like you," he whispered, and you chuckled softly as he peered through the dirty windows. "Can't see shit through that. Tap the door and wait a beat," he directed with a nod. 

Nothing came when you did, and you and Shane cleared the building in no time. Turns out you worked well with two cops, not that you were super proud of that. But still. 

There wasn't anything particularly helpful in there either, and Shane was shaking his head as you came back out into the sunlight. You slid your sunglasses back on and shoved your gun back in the holster, a smile forming as you looked over the gas station and everything around again. 

"Never fear, Officer. Criminal to the rescue," you said with a grin and a lift of your eyebrows, and jogged over toward the old-as-shit rusty van you saw nearby. "Watch the magic happen." 

 

 

Back at the RV, with grease under your nails, a lovely new cut along your forearm that you really hoped didn't give you tetanus, and a hose you hoped you could make work in the RV's engine, you were met with a group of grim and troubled faces. Daryl had his arms crossed and his eyes raked over you, assessing. 

"Shit, what now?" you asked when you got close, and Rick told you and Shane that Jim wanted to be left behind. 

"And he's lucid?" Shane asked. 

"He seems to be," Rick answered, sounding completely torn up by Jim's request. 

You walked over to the RV's engine, looking in and poking around. From the looks of things, you could make it work with what you'd managed to pull from the van at the gas station. You glanced back and found Daryl holding out a wrench wordlessly. You took it after a moment's hesitation and listened as you set to work.

"Back in the camp, when I said Daryl might be right and you shut me down? You misunderstood. I would never go along with callously killing a man. I was just going to suggest that we ask Jim what he wants," Dale said softly. "And I think we have an answer." 

There was more debate, because of course there was. Lori put an end to it, reminding the officers that it wasn't their call. It was Jim's. 

So you left him, sitting against a tree and looking out over the road. Rick tried to give him a gun, but Jim refused. You hung back from the goodbyes, not having known Jim all that well. He met your eyes and nodded to you with a faint smile, and you nodded back. 

"See you later, Jim," you told him, and his faint smile got wider. 

"See you later," he agreed. 

 

 

The rest of the trip was uneventful, and you rode with Shane in semi-companionable silence. You had your feet on the dash and your eyes closed when he parked. 

"Look alive, Nameless," he said softly. You opened your eyes to a minefield of the dead. 

"Jesus," you whispered, and Shane snorted as the two of you stepped down from the Jeep. 

"Don't think the divine has any part in this, to be honest," he answered grimly as the group gathered. "Alright everyone, keep moving. Stay together, stay quiet. Let's go." 

With Rick in the lead and Shane on one side, you took the other and trusted Daryl to watch your back. You made it to the rolled-down blast doors of the C.D.C., all of you coughing and trying not to breathe in the stench of death and decay or the buzzing of what was probably millions of flies. 

You blocked the bodies from your mind, focusing on looking for any sign of movement among them as you moved forward. They weren't people; they were obstacles. And as long as they were still, they weren't a threat.

There were two tanks right in front of the place, and you winced. That really, really wasn't good for Rick's hopes for the place. 

Rick and Shane started trying the doors, and you planted yourself, gun out and aimed as the sky grew dark. Daryl stepped to your side, crossbow up, and you didn't speak to him. 

"Walkers," you called, and Daryl fired, taking the closest one down. 

Everyone started to panic, Daryl being Daryl and yelling about Rick making the wrong call and leading you all into a graveyard. Shane yelled at him to shut up and the two of them started to get into it right there. You tuned everyone out and kept watching their backs. There were more zombies out there, but they were far enough away that you didn't feel the need to start making more noise than you already were. 

"All right, everybody back to the cars, let's go," Shane said, starting to herd people, and you fell into step in front of the group. You hadn't gone far when Rick spoke. 

"The camera! It moved." 

 

 

You couldn't fucking believe it, but Rick was right. 

The doors opened, right as you were beginning to pick off the on coming walkers and everyone was yelling and screaming and panicking. 

"Daryl, YN, cover the back," Shane snapped out, the first to get moving in the face of the bright light coming from the door. 

"Got you," you called, gun still held rock steady. There were walkers coming, but you could hold your ground for a few minutes, since you'd picked off the closer ones. As the group filed in, you fell back with them, Daryl at your side. 

"Close the doors," you muttered to him as you ducked through. "But keep an eye out in case we need to run." 

"I know," he muttered back, sounding annoyed. What else was new when it came to the two of you?

"Hello?" Rick called, and the sound of a gun cocking caused your shoulders to tense. Daryl started to turn and see what was in front. 

"Dixon," you snapped, and he scowled but stayed with you, eyes on the exit. "We cover their backs. Deputy's got it." 

"I said I know!" 

"Anybody infected?" a new voice called. 

"One of our group was. He didn't make it," Rick answered. 

"Why are you here? What do you want?" 

"A chance," Rick said simply. Damn Good Person Officer Grimes at it again, you thought with a smirk. And somehow, he managed to convince the guy. 

 

 

The men hauled your gear in while you watched their backs and held the doors open, and then the guy sealed you in. You felt your shoulders get tight again when that main door went down, cutting off your exit route, but this was what you came for. Safety. 

"Rick Grimes," Rick said, extending a hand to the man. 

"Dr. Edwin Jenner," he answered, shaking it. 

Somehow, on the elevator ride down, you ended up crammed in the corner beside Daryl. His shoulder brushed yours and you tried not to think about that too hard. 

"Doctors always go around packing heat like that?" Daryl asked, and the guy turned with a faint smile. 

"Well, there were plenty left lying around. I familiarized myself," he said, and his eyes wandered the group. "Though you look harmless enough. Except you. I'll have to keep my eye on you," he added to Carl, and Rick's kid grinned. 

You shook your head a little, smiling at the exchange. The doors dinged, and you all spilled out, following Jenner down the hall.


	11. Fallin' Again, Into the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> smut adjacent. Ish. Some. Gah.   
> mentions of drawing blood and needles  
> mentions of past child abuse

Turns out he was the last one there. The other doctors and staff had cut and run, but he stayed there. Just him and a computer. You all lined up to have blood drawn, and when it was your turn, you tensed. 

"Problem?" the doctor asked, and you shook your head. 

"Don't like needles," you answered with a roll of your shoulders. 

Daryl huffed. "Didn't have that problem gettin' them tattoos or your piercings."   
You scowled at him as Jenner swabbed your arm. "That's different! That was for fun. Tattoo guns and piercing needles are totally different ballgames from having someone-" You broke off as the doc released the tourniquet band from your arm. 

"Done," he said mildly, holding up a vial of your blood. You blinked, then looked at Daryl, who gave you smirk. 

"Knew I could distract ya," he said, taking your place on the chair. You frowned at him harder and walked away without saying anything. 

 

 

"I have to get blood drawn at the doctor tomorrow," you said, pouting as you kicked a rock. 

"Why?" Daryl asked, shifting his shoulders under his backpack. You scowled at him, wishing he'd let you carry it for him. You knew he'd gotten beat by Will the night before, since you'd been hiding in his room when it happened. 

He hadn't let you help then and he wouldn't let you carry his backpack now. Preteen pride demanded he not take help like that from a girl. 

"I don't know. They're doing some kind of bullshit testing, I guess. I wasn't paying attention," you admitted. "I'm scared of needles." 

Daryl laughed. "You ain't scared of anything." 

You couldn't help the little glow of pride at that. But you still almost passed out when the doctor stuck that big old needle in your arm. 

 

 

When Andrea got dizzy and Jacqui told the doc you hadn't eaten in days, he looked shocked. Moments later, everyone was gathered around a table with plates full of food and a couple of bottles of wine. Everyone was in high spirits, laughing and joking and teasing. 

Then Shane opened his mouth, and the mood all changed as the doc told his story. 

"Dude, you are such a buzzkill," Glenn muttered to Shane, and you couldn't help it. You laughed. 

"Sorry, doc," you said a minute later, when you got yourself under control. "But Glenn's right. Deputy Walsh sure knows how to ruin a good time," you said with a grin Shane's way. He rolled his eyes at you and made a face. You flipped him off casually and took another swallow from your glass. 

"Don't worry about it," Jenner said, waving a glass in the direction of the table. "Eat. Drink. Laugh. You're safe here." 

"Don't need another invitation for that!" Rick said, clinking his glass to Lori's, and everyone was off again. 

 

 

By the time you'd finished eating, everyone was at least halfway to drunk on the doctor's wine. For most of them, it wouldn't have taken a whole lot anyway, and at the end of the world with no alcohol for months? They went from sober to tipsy to drunk in about three glasses apiece. 

Then the doc announced that there were couches and cots and a rec room with books and games, and then through in a casual, "If you shower, go easy on the hot water." 

"Hot water?" Glenn asked, and everyone's faces lit up. 

You ran into Shane in the hall after you'd claimed a room. He had a bottle in one hand and clean clothes in the other and you raised an eyebrow at him. You were headed toward the showers yourself, but the bottle caught your eye. 

"That Jack?" you asked, and he lifted it and looked at the label in mock surprise. 

"Yes it is," he said with a smirk. 

"Gonna share?" you asked, grinning, and he leaned close to your ear, like he was going to tell you a deep secret. 

"Nope." 

"Asshole!" you said, shoving his shoulder as you reached the bathroom doors. He ducked into the mens and you went the other way, to the women's, as he laughed. 

"Ask me again about it later. Might change my mind!" 

"Jerk!"

 

 

You stood beneath the spray and laughed as the water cascaded over you. Jesus, this was amazing. The last hot shower you'd had was in King county, and if it felt like forever to you? Well, these guys who'd been at the quarry were probably losing their minds completely. 

If the equally laughter coming from the other shower stalls was any indication, you were right. You didn't comment when you heard a male voice mix with the female, recognizing Deputy Rick's laugh. You just grinned, glad he was finding some happy in all the nonsense. 

 

 

The first night after Merle shipped out, you stood beneath the shower spray in your apartment and cried your eyes out. Riding home without him in Daryl's old truck had been a sad, quiet affair. You'd leaned on the door and stared out the window until Daryl parked in front of your place. 

"See you tomorrow?" you asked with a small, sad smile, and he nodded. 

"Yeah. See ya tomorrow, YN," he answered. He heaved a sigh as you closed the door, and you saw him rub a hand across his eyes before he threw the truck in reverse. 

An hour later you stood in the shower, bottle of Jack Daniels on the ledge that you were sipping from periodically as you cried. When you heard a knock on the bathroom door you screamed, long and loud and bloodcurdling. 

"Shit, girl! It's just me!" Daryl yelled, opening the door. 

You collapsed back against the shower wall, gasping for breath and hoping to slow your racing heart. "What the fuck, Dixon!" you yelled after a minute. "Are you trying to kill me?" 

"Naw," he said, and you stuck your head out around the curtain to glare at him. He shrugged, leaning against the door frame. "Been in your living room for twenty minutes. Ya were in here when I got here. Just wanted to make sure you're ok." 

You sighed. "Honestly? Not really. What are you doing back here? I thought you went home." 

He shrugged again, looking away from you. "Tried. Didn't get far. Don't- don't wanna be alone," he whispered. 

You got that. "Yeah. Stay here tonight?" 

"Ya mind?" 

You smiled. "Naw. Any time. Give me five minutes and you can help me polish off the bottle of Jack I've got in here." 

"You brought booze in the shower with ya?" Daryl asked, his eyes whipping to yours and his face a delightful combination of shocked, worried, and amused. 

"Yeah, why not?" you said with a grin. "Showers are always better with booze." 

He snorted. "Yeah, showers're better with a lot of things, girl." 

"That they are," you agreed. There was a pause, and he suddenly turned red and looked at his feet. 

"Sorry," he muttered. "I'll get outta ya way."

Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was the sad. Maybe it was something in the way his eyes kept tracking down to your hand gripping the shower curtain. You didn't know. But you called him back as he pushed off the wall and turned to step out the door. 

"Daryl."

"Yeah?" 

"Why are you here?" you repeated your question from earlier, something in the air of the room making you bold. He froze, shoulders hunching. 

"Don't wanna be alone," he answered, turning slowly to look at you again. You nodded, heart pounding, and licked your lips, hesitating. His lips parted slightly at the motion before he pressed them closed, hard. 

"You could... I mean, if you wanted..." you trailed off and turned red as he stared at you. "Never mind. Pretend I didn't say anything," you muttered, ducking back behind the curtain and pressing your hand to your mouth to hold in the string of profanity that wanted to escape. 

Fuck. That was a mistake, probably because you'd had more than a few mouthfuls of that Jack, and now you'd fucked up the best friendship you'd ever had. The only real friendship you had left now that Merle was gone. Shit, damn, motherfucking son of a bitch. 

You turned and grabbed the Jack, taking another long pull and then leaning your forehead against the shower wall. 

"Gonna share, or what?" 

Your head shot up and you looked over your shoulder, shaking the shower spray out of your eyes. Holy shit. Holy shit. 

He was standing there, leaning against the back wall, face bright red as he stared firmly at your eyes. What the fuck.

"I-" you started to speak, but stopped instead. You handed the bottle over to him, eyes wide and hands shaking. 

Your hands had been shaking around him since you were fifteen years old. Four and a half years you'd been pining for him, daydreaming- when you let yourself- about being with him like this. In absolutely zero of those scenarios you'd pictured had anything remotely like this situation come up though. 

He took a drink and edged toward you, eyes on yours. Then he took another drink, and then he was a heartbeat, a whisper, a breath away. Your pulse was throbbing in your own ears and you wondered if he could see how close you were to literally, actually dying.

He set the bottle on the ledge and looked at you again. "Ya want this?" he asked quietly, seriously. "Or ya had a few too many hits of that? Ain't nothin' changed yet. I can get out or you can." Spray was hitting him now, soaking into his hair and running water droplets down his face. His eyes were so serious as they held yours, and you couldn't have looked away no matter what was happening around you. 

You shook your head, mouth dry and heart still pounding. "Don't go," you whispered, and he held your gaze a minute longer before nodding. 

Then his mouth was on yours and his hands were skimming over your bare skin and you shivered, hard, and moaned against his lips. He broke the kiss sharply and pressed his forehead to yours, still barely touching your sides with his fingertips. 

"Last chance," he whispered. "We do this, everything changes. Ya sure?" 

You heard it then- need and want and fear and desperation filling his voice. You looked in his eyes, so close to yours, and you saw it, too. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. It slammed into you harder than wrecking out on your bike, and you closed that last, impossible gulf between you yourself, pressing against him and threading one hand in his hair as the other ran up his arm. You gave a soft wordless, hungry cry as you felt the muscles under your hand tremble and you pressed your lips to his, nipping at his bottom lip with your teeth until he snarled and his arms tightened around you. 

He pulled you even closer to him, fingers digging into your hips before sliding around to splay over your back as he hauled you to your toes. He backed you into the wall and kissed you hungrily, desperately, until the water ran cold. 

Which, since you'd been in there for like a hour, didn't take long. Your teeth were chattering when he finally growled a little and pulled away from you enough to slap the water off, tossing the remaining spray out of his face. He grabbed your hand in his and the bottle of Jack from the ledge and flung the curtain back, pulling you with him as he headed for the bedroom. You were laughing, hard, as he pulled you through the door and dropped the bottle on your dresser. Then he kicked the door shut and wrapped himself around you again, tucking you into his arms and stumbling backward in the general direction of your bed. 

 

 

 

You wandered toward the rec room after your shower, glass of wine in your hand and hair dripping down your back. You left off your jacket, just swinging your vest on over a reasonably clean tank one of the women had given you at camp. Luckily, it was black, so it at least fit your aesthetic. The jeans were your only pants, though one of the others would have been willing to share, you had no doubt. Dirty pants didn't bother you any, though, so you just pulled them back on. 

You left your boots and your stolen holster off, too, going barefoot and unarmed except for the wine. Hell, if you weren't safe underground and behind those doors, you weren't safe anywhere. 

And of course, you ran into Daryl. He was clean looking, so he'd taken advantage of the facilities like everyone else. You wondered if he thought about the night you got together, too. Or the morning after, or any of the next nearly five years between that day and the day he dumped you. 

"Hey," he said. "That's one's new." He nodded toward your collarbone, and the small key tattoo that rested there. 

You jerked your shoulder in a shrug. "Yeah. Fairly recent. Why?" 

He sighed, tossing his head in frustration. "Tryin' to be nice. Make some damn conversation." 

"Why?" you asked again, eyeing him warily. "Daryl, what the hell, man? It's been six months or more- time became kind of relative while locked in a sheriff's office alone- since the last time I saw you, and then you told me you hated me and I ruined both yours and Merle's lives somehow by being with you. I've spent six months trying to figure that fucking conversation out, by the way, and I still have no idea what you meant. So, seriously- why are you trying to talk to me now? For five damn years you've said only the bare minimum to me." 

You half-yelled in frustration as your eyes welled up. No other person on the planet could make you cry like Daryl Dixon could. He started to reach out for you and you took a step back immediately, dashing the tears from your eyes. You shook your head at him. 

"Don't, Daryl. Don't. I don't understand, and I never will. You have no idea how much it's hurt to lose my best friend, not to mention the man I've been in love with since I was fifteen. Hell, maybe longer. Since before I even knew what love meant. I don't know how else to say this, so I'll just keep repeating it, I guess. I never liked Merle like that. I don't like Merle like that. I've never slept with Merle, nor do I have any plans to do so at any point in time. You are the one I wanted. You always were. Now please, get the fuck out of my way." 

You pushed past him, not meeting his eyes, and he let you go.


	12. Here I Am, Rock You Like A Hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> alcohol consumption  
> drinking games with adult topics discussed  
> Mild smut  
> underage drinking

You heard the voices as you came toward the rec room, and you paused as you recognized Shane's and Lori's, lifted in an argument. You were far enough away to not hear what was said, only the angry voices. You paused where you were, not sure what to do. 

Before you could decided, Shane threw open the door and stalked out. You met his eyes as he ran a hand his hair, and your eyebrow went up at the scratches on his neck and face. You fell into step with him without a word, and he shot you a look. 

"What?" he snapped finally. 

You shrugged. "Got any more of that Jack, Liberace?" You nodded in the direction of his mostly-unbuttoned shirt, but he clearly didn't think you were funny.

He paused for a second and turned, looming over you as you met his gaze questioningly. "How much of that did you hear?" 

"Honestly? Nothing. Just voices, no words," you said, shrugging. 

"Yeah. Yeah," he muttered finally, running a hand over his hair again. "Alright. I've got some more Jack. Come on, Nameless." 

 

 

He pushed open the door to the room he claimed and you followed him in. He grabbed the bottle from the desk in the corner and held it out to you. 

"Don't have any glasses." 

You shrugged, grabbing the bottle from him and taking a long swig right from it. You handed it back and collapsed down onto the couch in the room. "Didn't want a cot for the night?" 

He shrugged, looking from you to the bottle in his hand. "Don't need it. Why you here? Thought you didn't like me." 

You grinned. "I tolerate you. And you have the good booze. Wine's good and all, and these guys are lightweights so it's gotten them smashed. I, unfortunately, am not even buzzed. I'd really like to get drunk and forget about shit for awhile." 

He nodded and took a drink himself before handing the bottle back to you. "Yeah, me too," he muttered, and touched the scratches on his neck. 

"What's the story there?" you asked with a nod. He grimaced. 

"Nothing. Just a disagreement," he snapped. "Gonna hand that back?" 

"Gonna sit down so it's easier?" 

He rolled his eyes and sat beside you. You handed him the bottle, angled yourself into the arm of the couch, and looked at him with a wicked smile. 

"Never have I ever? Three truths and a lie? Truth or dare? Dares might be a little hard," you conceded, gesturing vaguely around. 

He snorted. "Why? To any of those?" 

"Because it's fun? Share, man," you ordered, waving a hand for the bottle. He eyed you again but finally shrugged. 

"Whatever. Get drunk either way." 

"That's the spirit. Ok." You leaned forward, crossing your legs on the couch and thinking for a minute. "Never have I ever.... gotten a tattoo?" 

He snorted and drank, then handed the bottle to you. "Never have I ever been arrested." 

You rolled your eyes. "Come on, Officer. Try harder than that! Never have I ever been in a devil's threesome." You wiggled your eyebrows at him suggestively and he laughed. 

"Hand it over, cupcake," he said lazily, and your eyes got wide. 

"No way!" 

He shrugged, drank, and handed it back. "Not giving you details, so just don't even ask. Never have I ever killed a man." 

You stared and handed him the bottle without drinking. 

He shrugged. "Just checking. Like to know who I'm drinking with." 

You glared for a moment longer before waving it away with a sigh. You ought to have been used to people questioning your morals by now, especially since you didn't have very many of them. "I guess that's fair. I'm a criminal, after all. Alright, fine. Never have I ever gotten in a bar fight." 

He sighed and drank. "Twice, actually. Both over girls." 

You laughed, because of course it was. "I've been in more than I can count. Usually over- well, everything." 

"Fair enough. Never have I ever been to a strip club." 

"Dude, I'm in a biker gang. We own three, and I've been to them all," you said with a snort, and drank. You tilted her head to the side and grinned. "Hell, I've danced at one." 

"Oh Jesus," he said softly, choking on the sip he'd just taken out of turn, and you winked at him. 

"I'm good at it, too. Ok, never have I ever ordered a private lap dance. Since we're on the subject." 

He grinned and drank. "Ain't ashamed of it, honey. Worth every penny. Never have I ever killed a walker I know." 

You thought for a minute and shook your head. "Not yet. Hopefully not ever. Never have I ever had angry sex with an ex." 

He tossed his head back and laughed, taking a long drink. "Oh, too many times to count. You thinking about sleeping with Dixon?" 

You shrugged and grimaced. "Actively? No. Just was thinking about the first time we got together, then had another run-in with him in the hallway, and- well, I'm sad. And I also haven't been laid in...." You trailed off, thinking, and then groaned. "Jesus fucking Christ. I don't even remember the last time I got laid. Here, give me that!" You snatched the bottle from him and took another drink. 

Shane was laughing at you, and you could see his eyes getting a little glassy. "Fair enough. Fucking the ex is a bad idea, Nameless." 

You rolled your eyes. "I know. I'm not going to. Just miss getting some." 

"Yeah," he agreed. "My turn?" You nodded, and he thought for a minute. "Ok, this one's good. Never have I ever faked an orgasm." 

You laughed and handed him the bottle back without taking a sip. "If you're doing it right, I don't have to fake it. And if you're doing it wrong, I'll let you know." 

He laughed too, and you wondered absently if he was starting to feel as loose as you. The whiskey was starting to work and you were pretty happy about it. It was your turn to ask a question, and you thought for a minute then pointed at him with a grin. 

"Never have I ever thought a friend's parent was hot." 

He considered it with a frown, then his expression cleared and he laughed again. "Oh yeah. Michelle's mom, sixth grade. Fuck me, she was the star of my dreams for awhile. Hadn't thought about her in ages. Ok, got another one for you. Never have I ever had a friend with benefits." 

You sighed and shook your head. "Naw. Learned my lesson after Dixon. I don't sleep with friends anymore." 

Shane nodded, turning the bottle in his hands as the room got quiet, and met your eyes without moving his head. "How about with people you tolerate?" 

 

 

You were sober enough to know it was a bad idea, but drunk enough not to care. After a moment's hesitation, you threw caution to the winds and pushed yourself off the couch. You swung one leg over him and settled in his lap, your hands gripping the open edges of his shirt. One of his hands came to your hip automatically, the other bringing the bottle to his lips as he took a drink and studied you. 

You cocked your head to one side and looked at him with a dangerous smirk. "You mean someone like you, Officer Walsh? Looking to take a ride on the bad side?" 

His eyes trailed down your body and back up, his hand skimming from your hip to your thigh and back. "Maybe. Interested?" 

You took the bottle from his hands and took a drink yourself, holding his gaze. "We clear on the rules? You sober enough to make decisions like this?" 

His fingers were playing with the hem of your tank now, and he brought his other hand to your collarbone and traced over the key Daryl had commented on earlier in the evening. "Sober enough. What rules you got, Nameless?" 

You smiled and leaned a little into his touch, arching your back and watching as his gaze dropped to your chest and then came back. "One-time offer, unless we decide otherwise. No attachment. You don't have any hold over me just because we fuck, Officer. Hell, we don't even like each other that much, so we sure as shit aren't dating." 

He nodded, his fingers moving to dip under the edge of your vest and then up to your neck. "I can live with that." 

"Got anything I need to know?" you asked, rolling your hips over him as you took another drink. 

He groaned and his fingers gripped your hip. "Naw. Just sex, Nameless." 

"Yeah," you agreed, and leaned over the arm of the couch to set the bottle on the floor. His hand skimmed your ass as you did, staying there as you straightened back up on his lap. You planted a hand on either side of his head on the back of the couch and leaned in close, lips caught between your teeth. 

"Let's see what you've got, Officer Walsh," you whispered, your lips hovering just over his, and he laughed at the challenge as he closed the distance between you. 

 

 

You woke up naked and with a headache. "Fuck me," you groaned, slapping a hand over your eyes to try to ease the throbbing in your temples. 

"Thought it was a one-time deal, Nameless; but I could probably go again. Once someone gets the damn midget with an ax out of my skull." 

You groaned. "Nice one, Officer, but kiss my ass, okay?" 

"Might have done that too. Don't really remember, to be honest." 

"God, don't make me laugh!" you moaned as the pounding of your pulse increased when you did. You sat up, slowly, and shoved a hand through your hair. 

You and Shane were both in the floor and naked, Shane flat on his back beside you with an arm over his own eyes. Clothes were tossed everywhere, and the cushions from the couch were tossed everywhere too. You stretched cautiously, moving slowly against the headache and the vague nausea, but it wasn't the worst hangover you'd ever had. 

"Well, Officer Walsh, I gotta hand it to you," you said as you winced when scratches down your back pulled. Between those, the sore muscles, and the bite marks on your thigh, you'd have known you'd had a damn good time, had you been drunk enough to not remember. You definitely hadn't been that wasted, though, and you gave him a lazy grin and a pat on the shoulder. "You can keep up, that's for sure." 

He laughed and then groaned as well. "Fuck, you were right about the laughter. Thanks, girl. Pretty fuckin' good at that shit yourself."

You grinned and laid back down, not ready to try standing yet. He sat up this time, and tapped the tattoo on your hip with one finger. 

"You do that for Dixon?" 

You grimaced. "How'd you guess?" 

"It's a match for the one on his arm. It ain't hard to figure out," he said with a smirk. 

"Yeah..." you drew the word out as you studied the tattoo yourself. "Two days after I turned eighteen. Soon as it was legal. I have no idea what possessed me, since he and I weren't together yet. I didn't tell him, either. He had no idea, until the night we got together." 

It pissed you off that Shane was right; the devil on your hip with his hands in the air and wings outstretched was almost an exact replica of the one on Daryl's arm. Almost. If someone looked close enough, they'd see the difference in the wings- on Daryl's, they were bat like, typical devil wings. On yours, they were the same shape, but feathered like an angel's.

 

 

"Hey, Dixon!" You made your way through the bar to where Daryl sat with his back to the wall, leaning over and kissing his cheek boldly before you dropped into the chair beside him. You had to yell over Joan Jet and the Blackhearts wailing about loving rock and roll, but you didn't mind. It gave you an excuse to lean into him a little, so you could be heard. "Happy birthday!" 

He smiled faintly at you. "Ya know I don't give a shit about that. Why ya makin' me do this?" 

"It's your eighteenth birthday, asshole. It's kind of a big deal. We don't have to use fake ids just to get by anymore!" You said, shoving his shoulder with a laugh. "Where's Merle? He here yet?" 

"Naw, he's about thirty minutes behind. Texted me a minute ago." Daryl rolled his eyes, then caught the bartender's eye and lifted his beer, then gestured to you and held up two fingers. The bartender narrowed his eyes at you and you smiled at him innocently. He eyed you a minute longer, then nodded.

"Ya got your fake on ya, right?" Daryl asked under his breath, and you smirked. 

"Never leave home without it. Ok, well, I can't wait anymore. Here! Happy birthday!" You shoved the gift bag you'd brought in into his hands and bounced in your seat excitedly. "Come on, open it!" 

He sighed and shot you a look. "Didn't need to get me nothin'. Neither of us got much money, girl, and I know it." 

You rolled your eyes. "Just say thank you and open the damn thing!" 

"Fine, fine," he muttered, as a waitress in short shorts and high heels dumped two bottles on the table and was gone before either of you could speak. You grabbed yours and took a sip, trying to hold in the grin as Daryl dug under the tissue paper. 

"Shit, YN!" he said, giving you a wide-eyed look as he pulled the leather vest from the bag. "What is this? I know ya cain't afford this shit. You could barely afford your own gear!" 

"Just say thank you, Dixon. Stop worrying about my finances. If you must know, I got a pretty substantial payment for a job I did with Merle a couple weeks back," you said with an annoyed huff, gesturing with your bottle. 

"You gonna join up, ain't ya?" Daryl asked, looking worried. 

You shrugged. "Yeah, probably. I like it, and what the hell else am I good for? Don't even have a high school diploma; all I know is bikes and guns. And I can't get more than a shit job or under the table cash anyway." 

"Yeah, but more'n half the shit they do's illegal," Daryl protested. "Don't want the life my brother's got for you. He don't want it for ya either." 

You shrugged again. "It's my choice, Daryl. But don't worry about that shit tonight, man! Turn that over; look at the back!" You bounced again, and he shook his head with a fond sigh and an exasperated look. 

He turned it over and traced a finger over the wings on the back of the vest. "It's awesome, YN. But why wings? I ain't no angel." 

You grabbed his hand and squeezed, feeling the blush rise on your cheeks and cursing it even as you spoke. "You are to me. You saved me from that hell hole. Plus, it goes well with your devil tattoo. I'm still pissed you got one with your fake id, by the way. Thought we both agreed to wait until we were actually eighteen!" 

He squeezed your hand back, something in his eyes for a moment that you couldn't identify, before standing up and swinging the vest over his shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for this. It's awesome. Best birthday present I've ever gotten," he added with a grin, and rolled his shoulders under the leather to settle it. 

He wore it damn near daily, until he broke up with you. You hadn't seen it since.


	13. Lonely Is The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

You got dressed in an exchange of insults and laughter, and headed out together. You ducked into the room where you'd left all your shit the night before, mildly grateful not to have run into anyone in the hallway when you came out of Shane's room with him. You weren't ashamed, and you weren't going to hide the fact that you'd slept with him- it was a free country after all- but you weren't sure you wanted to advertise it right then either. 

You pulled on your boots, buckled on your holsters, and layered your vest back over your jacket. You headed out and wandered down for breakfast, running into Rick on the way. Rick looked rough, and you patted his back with a sympathetic grin. He gave you a pained smile, and the two of you hit the cafeteria together. The lights were low and a few of the others were gathered around a table. 

"Morning," Dale greeted the two of you. Your mouth watered as you smelled coffee, and you looked around with wide eyes for the source of that particular miracle. 

"Are you hung over?" Carl asked, and you glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. He was looking at Rick, who grabbed a chair and was easing himself into it. "Mom said you'd be." 

You chuckled a little as you finally found the coffee pot, going straight for it with single-minded determination. It'd been ages since you'd used up the last of the coffee in the break room in King County, and there was nothing better for any morning- especially a hangover morning- that fresh, scalding, bitter black coffee. 

"Mom is right," Rick answered in a whisper. 

"Mom has that annoying habit," Lori put in as you wandered back over and took a seat beside Glenn. 

"Jesus, kid," you said, looking him over. He glared. 

"Eggs! Powdered, but I do 'em good." T Dog's cheerful voice, a normal speaking level, sounded like a shout in the quiet room. You were grinning at the moans and groans coming from everyone else. By the time you hit the end of your coffee cup and tossed back some of T Dog's eggs, you'd be fine. 

"Where'd all this come from?" Rick asked, steadfastly ignoring you while trying to open a bottle of aspirin. "Can you help me? Please?" 

You exchanged a grin with Lori as she took the bottle from him and opened it easily. "Jenner. He thought we could use it. Some of us at least," she added with a wink in your direction. 

"Don't ever, ever, ever let me drink again," Glenn moaned. 

"Oh shit, man. One of those. What did you get into last night?" you asked him, reaching over to rub his back. "I've had a few of those before." 

"Just the wine," Glenn said despondently, and you laughed softly. 

"Lightweights, all of you." You grinned around the table, propping one foot on your chair and wrapping your hands around the steaming mug. "This is the best cup of coffee I have ever had." 

"You don't talk. You barely drank any of the wine," Glenn accused, and you smiled. 

"Any of the wine, yes," you agreed. Lori frowned at you and started to speak, but Shane walked in at that moment. 

"Hey," he said. 

"Hey," Rick called, glancing up at him with a smile. "You feel as bad as I do?" 

"Worse," Shane said, and you laughed again. Shane flipped you off around a cup of coffee of his own. "Don't speak to me, Nameless. Don't know how you're standing after all that." 

"What the hell did you two get into last night?" Rick asked, looking between you as Shane collapsed in a chair beside you. 

"And what'd you do to your neck?" T Dog added. 

"Found some Jack. Got into some trouble," Shane answered Rick. "Must have done it in my sleep," he added, about the scratches along his neck. 

"Never known you do that before," Rick commented easily. You glanced away and saw Lori flinch, and your eyes narrowed as you shot a look back at Shane.   
Just what the hell had happened between the two of them in that rec room? 

"Me neither," Shane said with a sigh. "Not like me at all," he added with a significant look at Lori. 

You looked at Shane and raised an eyebrow as the doctor walked in and everyone's attention went to him. He didn't say anything, just took a sip of his own coffee and plopped a spoonful of eggs onto a plate as they came around the table. You shrugged and started stealing bites from right under his nose, just for something to do. 

 

 

Watching someone die and come back to life on a big screen was a surreal experience. Watching from perched on a computer in a room that should have been full but was instead mostly empty somehow made it even more heartbreaking. Especially when you learned it was the doctor's wife. Even Daryl, who came in at the back of the pack, was subdued. 

He glared at you when he came in, but you didn't meet his eyes. You weren't very hungover anymore, but you didn't want to fight with him all the same. Not right then. 

There wasn't anything left anywhere, it turned out. Jenner had been alone and in the dark for around a month; not receiving any transmissions or communications from the outside world. 

"Man, I'm gonna get shitfaced drunk. Again," Daryl declared, and you laughed without any humor. 

"We can agree on that, Dixon," you said grimly. 

"Naw, we cain't," he snapped, glaring at you. 

You drew a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Shane met your eyes and shook his head slightly as you opened your mouth to respond. He was right, you decided, it really wasn't the time. You tuned back in when Dale asked the doctor about the big clock on the wall. 

"What happens at zero?" 

"The basement generators- they run out of fuel," he said quietly, and walked away. 

"Vi, what happens when the power runs out?" Rick snapped. 

"System-wide decontamination will occur," the computer answered. 

"Oh, well, that can only be a good thing," you muttered, and Shane laughed. 

 

 

You opted not to run around with the boys, though Shane's jerk of his head in your direction had Rick looking at you with surprised eyes. You shook your head and followed Carol, Lori, the kids, Andrea, and Dale instead, into the wing where you'd all been staying. Someone needed to watch their backs. 

Of course, that's not what you really got to do, since the moment you made it to the rec room and curled up with a book and an ear out for trouble, trouble came looking for you. In the form of one angry redneck ex. 

"We need to talk, YN," he snarled. "Come on." 

"I think not, Daryl," you answered, stubbornness setting your jaw. "I'm reading." 

He stood and glared down at you. "I heard ya with fuckin' Shane last night." 

You closed your book and considered how to proceed, but his anger just fanned yours. He had no claim on you anymore, so he could kiss your ass with this attitude. Finally you smirked at him and let your inner smartass shine. 

"You heard me with fucking Shane, or you heard me fucking Shane? There's a difference, though I suppose it doesn't matter, since both would be accurate to what I was doing last night." 

His jaw tightened and he turned abruptly, stalking away from the couch. You rose and looked at him, shaking your head and laughing dryly. 

"The fuck ya think is funny, bitch?" he spat, whirling around and getting right up in your face. 

"What the hell is going on with you, Daryl?" you asked, confused and exhausted. "What business is it of yours who I screw or if I screw someone? I'm not your girl anymore, remember? Because you dumped me!" 

"For my brother!" he yelled back at you. "You wanted him! Hell, we only fuckin' got together because of a bottle of damn Jack and you bein' sad he was gone!" 

You flinched. "I told you that morning that wasn't the case, Daryl," you whispered, surprised to find it actually hurt that he believed that was all it was. You thought him telling you it was over or that he hated you was bad enough, but the idea that he could look back on that night and believe that drunken grief sex was all it was to you cut you to the core. 

He sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. "I know. And I believed ya, at the time." 

"So what changed?" you whispered, neither of you yelling now. He shrugged and looked away without answering. 

"Why Shane?" he asked abruptly.

"Ugh, don't change the subject, asshole. For once in your damn life, actually talk to me. Why? Why'd you dump me? Really, Daryl," you pleaded. "I want to know. I need to know, because no matter who I fuck or what I do, I still damn well love you. You're in my blood and written on my body in ink, and I have never been and never will be anyone but yours. And you tossed me aside like it was easy! You sneer and fight and say things to me that hurt worse than a bar brawl or bad crash, call me a bitch and accuse me of shit I haven't done. So either actually talk to me, or fuck off, Dixon. I don't wanna do this anymore." There were tears on your cheeks as you finished in a broken whisper, and you turned away from him before he could say or do anything, taking three long strides away and laying both hands flat on the pool table as you tried to get yourself under control. You were Nameless, and Nameless were strong. 

He didn't say anything, and you closed your eyes and sighed. 

 

 

"Hey," Daryl whispered, and you smiled as you felt his fingers trailing over your tattoos one by one, tracing the shape of them. 

"Hey back," you said without opening your eyes. "Good morning." 

"Mornin'." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder as his fingers finished following the clean lines of the watercolor phoenix that decorated your shoulder blade. His fingers trailed along your arm and down your side and you shivered a little. 

"This looks like mine," he whispered, his calloused fingers trailing over the smirking devil on your hip. 

Well, shit. You'd never expected him to ever see that one, so you didn't really have a plan for how to explain it to him. "Yeah," you finally muttered, feeling the blush heating your cheeks. 

You were suddenly painfully aware of the fact that you were naked, in bed, with your best friend. A best friend who was currently drilling a hole into your skull with the strength of his gaze, which you could feel even with your back to him and your eyes closed. His fingers were still tracing the devil, from wingtip to wingtip and horns to tail and back again. 

You hoped he wouldn't notice the wings matched the ones on the vest you'd given him for his eighteenth birthday. The week before you'd gotten that tattoo.

"Ya gonna tell me about it, or make me guess?" he asked, sounding amused, and his fingers had stopped tracing it. Now he rested his palm flat over the tattoo and tugged your hip to get you to roll over and face him. You did with a sigh, curling up a little and tucking your hands under your chin. 

He was smiling at you, and reached up to shove some of your hair from your face and run his fingers down your cheek. "Ya blushin' hard there, girl. Ya weren't blushin' last night." 

You rolled your eyes at him, but he'd gotten you to grin. "Sex is easy," you began and rolled your eyes again when he snorted. "Sex is easy," you repeated. "That tattoo is embarrassing." 

"Don't gotta tell me if ya don't wanna," he said casually, but there was an edge running under his voice. You snorted and shook your head. 

"Not much to tell. I got it to match yours, idiot," you said. 

"Why?" 

"'Cause I wanted to." 

"That ain't much of an answer, girl," he huffed, and you shrugged with one shoulder. 

"Nope, not really. Hey, Dixon. We should probably talk about some stuff, shouldn't we?" you said, desperate to change the subject. You didn't want to tell him that you'd gotten it so you'd always have a part of him with you. So you'd always be partly his, even if he never wanted you that way. 

"Yeah," he agreed slowly, eyes shifting away from you as he pulled his hand from where he'd had it on your side. "Guess so." 

You fidgeted with the edge of the pillow. "So... Last night-" 

"Ain't gotta change nothin'," he cut you off harshly. "Can just be a one time thing. Know ya were just sad 'cause Merle's gone." 

"I- what?" you sat up and reached for him. "No. I mean, yes, I was sad. But that wasn't- Damn it." You sighed and grabbed his hand, crossing your legs and looking at him earnestly. All nervousness or awkwardness at being naked faded in your need to make him hear you. 

"Sure, it can be a one time thing if that's what you want. I'd hate that, for the record, but I can live with it. But it wasn't like that for me. It wasn't just that Merle's gone and I wanted something to make me feel better. If that had been the case I'd have gone on a ride or eaten a pint of ice cream on the couch with some dumbass chick flick I'd rather die than tell anyone I liked." 

He huffed a laugh at that, glancing into your eyes with a smile tugging on his lips. "Then what do ya want, YN?" he asked, and your heart was pounding again. 

"I want you. I've wanted you for years, Daryl. And yeah, I was hurting and I wanted to be close to you because I already miss Merle like I'd miss one of my limbs if it were gone. But I-" you cut off again, shaking your head as your eyes filled. Annoyed with yourself, you dashed them away with the back of your hand. "I got the damn tattoo the week after I gave you that vest. The wings on my devil have feathers. I wanted- I wanted to a part of you to be with me. Watching over me, all the time. And I wanted to be yours, in a way. It's stupid, but that's what you do when you're eighteen and head over heels for your best friend," you admitted with a shrug. 

Daryl sat up slowly, staring at you so hard you started to squirm under his gaze, the color rising in your cheeks again.

"So, anyway," you babbled. "It can be a one time thing. That's fine. Or not. That'd- that'd be fine too-"

"Shut up, baby," he said finally, his tone amused and full of something you'd never heard before. Your eyes snapped to his, and you saw that same something swimming in his eyes as he cupped your cheek in his hand. "Get over here and kiss me. It ain't no one time thing between us, girl." 

"Thank God," you muttered, and scrambled into his lap to kiss him like he'd asked. 

 

 

"YN-" Daryl began, but the air chose that moment to cut off, followed by the lights. 

"What the fuck?" you said, turning around and looking at him. "Shit." 

In the hallway, everyone was popping their heads out of their rooms and peppering Dr. Jenner with questions. He was dressed in a button up and a tie, with his lab coat, and your eyes narrowed at the bottle in his hands and his getup. He knew something that he wasn't telling you. Something about the so-ominous system-wide decontamination, you were betting. 

"It's not up to me," Jenner answered something one of the others had said. "System 5 is shutting itself down." 

You fell in behind the others, running a hand over Carol's back reassuringly and smiling at Sophia's scared face. Daryl pushed his way to just behind Jenner while the group trailed after the doctor's determined steps. 

"What's that mean? Hey. Hey, man, I'm talking to you!" he snapped. "What do ya mean it's shuttin' itself down? How could a building do anything?" 

You were infinitely grateful when Rick, Shane, T Dog, and Glenn came running out of a side door and intercepted Jenner. You stayed at the back of the pack, watching and looking around for any external threats while they argued. 

Jenner's clock was at the half-hour mark, and apparently the French were the last ones to hold out. They ran out of juice when they were getting close to a solution. The doc was talking about fossil fuels and looking distinctly shifty, and Rick snapped. 

"The hell with this. I don't give a shit. Lori, get your stuff. Everybody get your things, we're getting out of here now!" he yelled, and you started for the doors before he was finished speaking. You didn't make it, since a big red light started flashing while an alarm started blaring. 

Everybody else started yelling, but you kept going for the doors. Shane was telling everyone to do as Rick said, and you were almost there when a metal divider snapped into place, blocking the exit. 

"Son of a bitch!" you yelled, slamming your fist onto it. You turned, slowly, and looked at the doc. 

"Did you just lock us in?" Glenn asked, eyes wide. 

"You son of a bitch, you locked us in here!" Daryl yelled, heading for the doc. 

"Shane! Shane!" Rick shouted, and Shane intercepted Daryl. That was a bad idea, and Daryl turned those pissed off eyes on Shane and struggled. T Dog had to get involved, and in the hubbub, Rick forgot something. 

He forgot who you were.

You reached into the pocket of your jacket and pulled out the brass knuckles you'd managed to get along with some of your other effects from lock up. You slid them over your fingers, hands behind your back, and started back to the group at a walk. Everyone was so busy panicking and yelling and talking to Jenner that they ignored you. 

Daryl saw you, and his eyes were hard as he met yours. You nodded to him, once, and then you were there. 

"Jenner, open that door-" 

You interrupted Rick with a punch to Jenner's face with your brass knuckles. 

"Damn it! YN! Shit!" Rick yelled. 

You ignored him, grabbing Jenner's chair and spinning it as he lifted a hand to the cut on his cheek. "Open the door now, Doc," you said quietly, dangerously. Rick grabbed your shoulder and you shook him off, your glare spearing into him. 

He backed off when Shane yelled at him to leave you be. 

"Doc?" you asked, turning your attention back to Jenner. 

"There's no point. Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed." 

"So open them," you said again, and planted one knee on his chair between his legs. 

"That's not something I control, the computers do," Jenner shot back, glaring at you as he dabbed at his bleeding cheek. "I told you once that front door closed, it wouldn't open again. You heard me say it." 

You scoffed. "Nice, doc. You didn't tell us the implications of that, though." You hauled back and slapped him, open handed this time. "Now, what happens at zero?" You nodded at the clock. 

"It's better this way," he said softly. "You know what this place is? We protected the public from very nasty stuff! Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country!" 

You backed up a little, dread sinking into the pit of your stomach like lead. You had a feeling you knew where this was headed. Rick's hand touched your back as Jenner rose and glared at you all. 

"In the event of a catastrophic power failure- in a terrorist attack, for example- HIT's are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out," he said more quietly. 

"HITs?" Rick asked. 

"Vi, define," you snapped before the doc could bullshit his way through anything. 

"High-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen between five thousand and six thousand degrees and is useful where the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired," the mechanical voice of the computer was devastating in its cool composure, and everyone around you fell apart. 

You stared at Jenner, not blinking, and he met your eyes. 

"It sets the air on fire," he said softly. "No pain. And end to sorrow, grief. Regret. Everything."


	14. The Final Countdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> minor character death  
> injury and hospitalization

Everyone fucking lost it. Shane and Daryl went into overdrive, working surprisingly well together given Daryl's reaction to your choice of bed for the night before. They were trying to cut open the door with axes, and you knew it wouldn't work. Lori and Carl and Carol and Sophia were in the floor clutching each other and crying, and Rick and the doctor were arguing. 

"Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher," Jenner said when Shane reported that they couldn't make a dent. 

"Yeah? Well, your head ain't!" Daryl yelled, coming at him with the ax raised. The guys all started trying to hold him back, and you sighed. 

"Dixon, give it a rest," you said quietly, and met his eyes for a minute. He looked at you, something moving in his eyes, and he let T Dog take the ax from his hands. 

"You do want this," Jenner told Rick. "Last night, you said it was just a matter of time before everyone you knew was dead." 

"You really said that?" Shane asked, sounding pissed, and you rolled your eyes again. 

"Come on, the man's allowed to have a breakdown every now and then. Like you and I didn't say some things while we were drunk either, Officer," you snapped. "Hey, assholes? If we really only have-" you checked the countdown on the wall "- twenty minutes left to live, can we not spend all of it pissed at each other?" 

Shane looked guilty, but he shut up. 

"Somebody, somewhere-" Rick started, and Andrea cut in. 

"What part of everything is gone do you not understand?" she asked harshly. 

You sighed again and walked to the edge of the ring of lights, tired of the noise and the bullshit. If this was the end, you'd rather spend it alone than arguing about everything under the sun. You hopped up to perch on the nearest desk, leaning back against the computer and closing your eyes. 

"Hey," a voice said softly, and you sighed yet again, this time in frustration. Why couldn't he just leave you alone? 

"Seriously, Dixon, I do not want to spend my last minutes on earth fighting with you, ok?" 

He shuffled his feet and you finally opened your eyes and looked at him. His head was dropped and he chewed on a hangnail, and you had a flash of the eight year old kid who'd eyed you suspiciously and asked how the hell you knew Motley Crue the day you met. It made your heart ache for the friendship you'd been missing for so damn long. 

"Don't wanna fight with ya either. I miss ya. If I'm gonna die, I wanna do it by my best fuckin' friend," he muttered, finally meeting your eyes. 

You stared at him. "You are so damn confusing, Daryl. What the fuck?" 

"I'm sorry," he said, looking down again. "I haven't been- look, if we had more time I'd tell ya all the reasons I've got for what I did. What I said. But we don't, so can I just say I'm sorry? 'Cause I am. We're gonna die and my brother's out there somewhere but he ain't here, and I been missin' ya since the minute I left ya. But I never hated you, YN." 

"God damn it, Daryl Dixon. What are you even saying to me?" you asked, frustrated, and pressed your fingers to your eyes as you half-laughed and half-groaned. 

Suddenly, his hands were on yours, pulling them off your eyes and holding on tightly. He leaned in and kissed you gently, and it would have hurt less to be stabbed. You were crying, and you sobbed into the kiss even as you drank it up and begged for more. 

 

 

"YN? YN? Come on, baby, open ya eyes and look at me. Please!" 

Daryl's voice was urgent and panicked, and you groaned as it slammed right into the center of the headache you were dimly aware you had. Considering all the other aches and the sharp stabbing pain in your side, the headache really wasn't much of an issue for you right now. 

"Shit, Daryl," you muttered, opening your eyes slowly and blinking until Daryl's worried face stopped being fuzzy and doubled. "What the hell happened?" 

"Jesus," he whispered, dropping his head and raising a shaking hand to his eyes. "Jesus fuckin' Christ. I- Ya wrecked out. Hit a curve wrong and went down, and the bike fell on ya as ya slid. Shit, girl, I don't even know how bad-" 

"Hey, come on, Dixon. I'm fine; I've wrecked out before," you said with a laugh, grabbing his hand. The movement made you wince, though, and he gave you a troubled look. 

"Stop that, YN," he snapped. "Ya ain't wrecked like this. Been unconscious since I got over here, and ya bleeding. So just- just lay there and don't move and wait for the ambulance, ok?" 

"Why am I bleeding?" you asked, trying to look down at your side. 

"Trust me, baby, ya don't wanna know," Daryl answered, and you realized he had one hand pressed hard against your stomach. You could barely feel it, though, and you had the fleeting thought that that was probably a bad thing before the world went black. 

 

 

"Well, girlie, if ya gonna do somethin', I guess it's good ya did it right," Merle drawled and you moaned a little as you tried to open your eyes. 

Your throat was dry as a bone, and you felt not unlike you'd- well, not unlike you'd wrecked your bike. "Where am I?" you croaked, and immediately started coughing. 

"Here, idiot girl, drink this," Merle's voice was supposed to be amused, but all you heard under it was the worry. You finally got your eyes open and took the cup of water from him, drinking it while he looked on with barely concealed concern in his eyes. 

"Where am I?" you asked again when the cup was empty. 

"Grady Memorial. Whatcha remember, YN?" 

"Wrecked out. Was on the side of the road. Daryl throwing a full on bitch fit at me. And- I was bleeding?" you said fuzzily, brow furrowed in concentration. 

Merle snorted. "Baby brother was right to be throwin' that fit. Ya had a piece of ya bike stuck through your guts, girl. Doctor here says you'll be fine, but we was pretty damn concerned for awhile. Good thing my little brother was clean and you had the same blood type," he added, and you saw the flash of guilt in his eyes. 

Merle was a universal donor, but he was rarely clean enough to give blood. You patted his hand and scowled at the IV sticking out of it. 

"Don't be guilty, Dixon. I'm ok. Fuckin' hate needles, though," you added, and Merle snorted. 

"Had to lie about ya age, girl. You're twenty one, not seventeen. And ya name so they'd let us in here. You'n my little brother are married now," he said, winking, and you laughed. 

 

 

 

Shane cocked that monster shotgun of his and Rick was yelling for him to stop. You broke away from Daryl, shoving to your feet as you stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes and touched your fingers to your lips in shock. He didn't say anything, just looked back at you, and you shoved past him and into the fray as Shane leveled the gun at Jenner and demanded he open the doors. 

"Brother, this is not how we do this," Rick said urgently in Shane's ear. 

"You better listen to him!" Lori chimed in, eyes wild and angry as she stared Shane down. 

"Hey, Officer? If he dies, we got no chance," you said mildly, and Shane's eyes flashed to you for half a second. Then he primal screamed, taking another step closer to the doc as Rick tried to get him to stop. 

When he started shooting up the computers, everyone started ducking for cover except you and Rick. Rick was grabbing at him, but you sauntered over and stood a little in front of him. He glared out at you and you raised your eyebrow at him. 

He stopped shooting and Rick snatched the gun from his hand as Shane glared. 

"You done?" you asked mildly, and he scoffed. 

"Yeah, I guess we all are," he snapped. 

"Helpful, asshole," you told him, and turned to look at Rick. Rick was scanning the faces all around, and when he got to you, you gave him a nod. "Deputy Grimes, now would be a good time to pull out that sincere earnestness that persuades people to do shit," you told him, and he rolled his eyes at you. 

But after a minute, he turned to Jenner. "I think you're lying. You're lying about no hope. If that were true, you'd have bolted with the rest or taken the easy way out. You didn't. You chose the hard path. Why?" 

"It doesn't matter," Jenner said softly. 

"It does matter. It always matters. You stayed when others ran. Why?" 

"Not because I wanted to! I made a promise to her. She begged me to keep going as long as I could," he said. "She could have done something about this. Not me." 

"Your wife didn't have a choice. You do. That's- that's all we want. A choice, a chance," Rick said urgently. 

And somehow, like it did every time he got that damn voice going and looked at people with that expression in those eyes, it worked. Jenner opened the doors. 

"I told you topside's locked down. I can't open those," he said, and there were four and a half minutes on the clock when the barricades went down. 

 

 

You herded people along, Daryl and Glenn in the lead in a mad dash for your group's shit and the stairs. You paused in the doorway to see Rick, Andrea, Jacqui, and Dale still in the room. 

"Come on, people!" you yelled, torn between where to go. Jenner grabbed Rick's hand and whispered something in his ear. 

"Hey! We got four minutes left, come on!" you screamed, and Rick was running to your side. 

But Jacqui stayed. And Andrea stayed, and Dale refused to leave. You hovered in the doorway, Shane at your side. 

"Shane, what do I do?" you asked softly, looking between them and him with wild eyes. You were the enforcer. You protected your people, you didn't leave them in danger. He looked back helplessly, and Dale yelled at you to go, just go. 

"Come on, Nameless," Shane said, grabbing you by the elbow and hauling you toward the stair. "They made their choice." 

 

 

At the exit, T Dog and Glenn were trying the doors and Shane yelled for Daryl and started taking the axes to the glass. 

"That won't work!" you yelled, and Shane traded the ax for his monster shotgun. 

"Everybody get down! Cover the kids!" he yelled and fired before you could stop him. It barely put a dent in it. 

"The glass won't break?" Sophia asked, her voice filled with panic. 

You shoved a hand through your hair and then you started laughing. Shane whirled on you, eyes hard. 

"The hell you laughing at?" 

"Hey!" Daryl snapped at him, but you silenced them both when you shoved your hand into your jacket pocket and jumped up to the window. 

"Shut up and get the fuck down, everyone!" You glanced at Rick and grinned. "Criminal to the rescue again, Deputy Grimes," you said, holding up the grenade you'd picked up in the tank in Atlanta. 

"Fuck," Shane whispered, and started shoving the kids and the other women back. Everyone hit the deck and you pulled the pin and placed the thing by the window. 

"Whoooo!" you yelled as you threw yourself away from the windows as fast as you could, adrenaline coursing through you and making you more than a little insane.

"Get down, get down!" Rick was yelling, but the thing blew and you were airborne. 

The sound of glass shattering was one of the sweetest things you'd ever heard, and you came up laughing as Daryl scrambled toward where you fell.

You shook your head at him, grinning, and he grabbed your hand and hauled you toward the window. Shane went through first and Daryl followed, you and Rick helping the kids and Carol and Lori next, followed by Glenn and T Dog. You ducked through and Rick brought up the rear, and you pulled a gun with a hand that you only noticed then was bloodied and had glass sticking out of the knuckles. 

You booked it for the cars, each of you taking out approaching walkers as you went, and everyone was scrambling into vehicles. You ended up in Shane's Jeep again, and he tossed the bag of guns in the back, grabbed your shoulder, and shoved you down into the floorboards. Then he tossed himself over you as Rick started laying on the horn. 

"What-" you started to say, and the world erupted around you.

You shoved Shane off of you and scrambled up, standing in the seat to look around and check on your people. Your heart stopped in relief when you saw Glenn open the RV's door and wave Andrea and Dale in up at the front of the line. Directly in front of Shane's jeep, Daryl shoved his head out the door of his truck and looked back at you, and his shoulders dropped when he saw you there. 

"Alright, we're moving out. Sit your ass down. Gonna need to look at your hand at the very least, but we're going to get the hell away from here first," Shane snapped as the line of the convoy started firing up their engines. 

You sat as directed, leaning back against the seat and not looking at the destruction of the building.


	15. I'm Back in the Saddle Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

"Hold still, would you?" Shane snapped, digging the glass from your hand. You kept twisting around, trying to watch Daryl unload Merle's bike from the truck. 

"He's going to- Dixon! Watch that back tire, damn it!" you yelled, and Daryl shot you a glare and flipped you off. Then the tire slid off the board he was using as a ramp. "Told you!" 

"Bite me, YN!" he yelled. 

"Hurt that bike and I'll hurt your face!" 

"Would you be fucking still? If I don't get all of this out, your damn hand won't heal and you won't be able to give anyone the middle fucking finger anymore," Shane's exasperation was evident as he grabbed your shoulder and turned you back around firmly. 

Rick walked over and smiled at you. "She going to live, Shane?" 

"Probably not if she keeps spinning around to trade insults with Dixon," Shane muttered, and you winced as he dug around and produced another shard of blood covered glass. "Alright, Nameless, I think that's got it. Hand me that bandage, would you?" 

You grabbed it off the truck and let him wrap your hand, then flexed your fingers experimentally a few times. "Nice. Thanks, Officer Walsh," you said with a grin, and he waved you off while he muttered and Rick looked between you, amused. 

"Yeah, yeah. Go play with Daryl and leave me alone, you crazy criminal." 

You laughed as you turned and jogged over to where Daryl had gotten Merle's bike down, theoretically in one piece. "Ok, move the fuck over, Dixon. Let the master at this thing." 

"I know what I'm doin', YN," Daryl bitched, but you hip bumped him out of the way with a grin. 

"Hey, who's the Nameless? Whats the rule?" you asked cheerfully. No matter the events of a few hours before, no matter how confusing your feelings for Daryl were right now- the bike was in play, which meant you were happy. 

"Fuck Merle's damn rule," Daryl muttered, but he was smiling too, despite himself. 

 

 

"Alright, look here, girl- that's it," Merle said, hand on your shoulder. "Easy does it." 

"I know what I'm doing, asshole," you told him cheerfully, swiping a hand over your eyes as you looked up at him. 

"And if she don't, ain't like I'm no stranger to the damn thing either," Daryl added, elbows deep in the engine of his truck. "Not like I do this shit for a livin' or anything." 

"You know the rule, baby brother," Merle said easily. "Only Nameless work on a Nameless ride!" 

"'So join the club or keep ya hands off,'" the three of you finished in unison, you and Merle grinning and Daryl sounding exasperated. 

The three of you started laughing as you realized what you'd done. Then the radio moved from Motorhead to Motley Crue's "Girls Girls Girls". Merle's face lit up and you and Daryl groaned as he started to sing along, loudly and way off tune.

Daryl tossed a rag at Merle, hitting him square in the face, and you cracked up laughing. 

"Hey, since Merle and I are busy here, why don't you go grab us some beers and pass us the tools we need, baby, like a good little gear head bunny?" you teased Daryl, who scowled at you. 

"Naw, I cain't drink tonight," Merle said with a laugh. "Though seein' my little bro in a pair of them short shorts and a sexy little Harley Davidson tank top would sure as shit be funny!" he added, winking at you before he noticed that you and Daryl had both frozen with stricken expressions. 

He sighed and set his hand on your cheek. "Come on now, girlie. Don't get all emotional on me now. Tomorrow's soon enough for ya to be lookin' at me like that. You either, baby brother," he added, looking past you to Daryl. "Stop that now. The Crue's on and we got all night to enjoy bein' together." 

You sniffled a little and forced yourself to smile, for his sake. "Dixon would look good in short shorts," you offered after a minute. "Some cut-off, with the frayed hems, you know?"

Merle laughed as Daryl called you a bitch and stalked over to the freezer the club kept fully stocked for all members who used the garage. 

"That's the spirit, YN!" Merle said, running his thumb over your cheek before dropping his hand and snatching the bottle of water Daryl threw at his head out of the air. "He's got the legs for it, don't he?" 

"And the ass," you agreed with a wink at Daryl's scowling face as you took the beer from his hand and drank from it. 

 

 

You weren't really sure how you'd ended up in the bitch seat, but it beat the hell out of being crammed into that RV. There was absolutely nothing in the universe like the feeling of riding a bike, even if you had to do it with your arms wrapped around your ex's waist. 

"Hey," Daryl yelled to you over the roar of the engine. 

"Yeah?" 

"We need to talk, YN." 

You groaned, and the wind snatched it and flung it behind you. "How the hell you propose we have a conversation on this thing, Daryl?" 

"What?" he yelled back, and you dropped your forehead to his shoulder for lack of anything better to slam your head against. 

"We'll talk when we make camp tonight!" you screamed directly into his ear after a pause. 

"Jesus, girl, ya don't need to blow out my damn eardrum!" 

"I think I hate you, Daryl Dixon," you said flatly, rolling your eyes. 

"What?" 

 

 

A few hours later, you made him stop. The RV cruised to a halt behind you, and the Grimes/Peletier vehicle did the same in the rear. You swung off the bike and stretched as people started pouring out. 

Rick and Shane converged on you. "What's the problem?" Rick asked, and you looked at him blandly. 

"We've been riding for four hours, Officer. I need to piss," you told him mildly, and Shane started laughing. 

Ten minutes later, everyone had stretched their legs, seating had been debated and rearranged and arranged back the way it originally had been, and the RV bathroom had been used by everyone who wasn't riding in the RV full time. Rick called for everyone to load back up and you glared at Daryl. 

"I'm driving," you said firmly. 

"No ya ain't." He scowled at you and you crossed your arms over your chest. 

"I'm driving." 

Unlike with the deputy, you won that one. You caught a glimpse of Shane's grinning face when you swung onto the bike and Daryl hopped on the back with a scowl. You didn't give a shit what he or anyone else thought as you pulled your gloves from your pocket and worked one over the hand that wasn't bandaged. You were too excited to be riding again. 

Firing her up was like coming home, and Daryl muttered something you didn't quite catch when you revved it twice and took off like a shot, opening the throttle all the way to bullet down the road. 

"Slow the fuck down!" he yelled in your ear as you laughed and he grabbed onto you hard. 

You slowed immediately, pulling to a stop with your feet braced. You laughed and let out a whoop, then glanced over your shoulder to see Shane hanging out the passenger window of the slowly arriving RV with his middle finger up. You took one hand off the ape hangers and raised yours back to him cheerfully, but let them catch up. 

 

 

You were still in the driver's seat when you reached the traffic snarl and Daryl started cussing behind you. When you'd slowed down, his hands had dropped from your waist like you burned his skin, and you were getting really freaking tired of the mixed signals. Cruising back around to the RV, you looked up at Dale. 

"I think I can lead you through, if that beast of yours can go off-road a bit," you yelled, and he nodded. 

You weaved your way through the cars, the others following, until the RV's engine thunked and white started to billow out from it again. 

"Shit," you muttered. 

"There goes that hose ya put in," Daryl agreed, and you were at a dead end anyway. 

"At least there's plenty of spare parts around," you said with a nod at all the cars as you tossed down the kickstand and swung off the bike. 

 

 

Lori objected to taking shit from all the cars, but no one else did. Everyone scattered to see what they could find, and Dale climbed up to the RV to keep a lookout. Rick and Shane were wandering with some of the others, covering them while they worked. 

You headed off to scavenge and see what you could see, and you were face down and ass up in the backseat of a glorious '69 Pontiac Firebird the driver had literally rather died than part with- you knew 'cause he was rotting in the front seat, still gripping the wheel- when Shane came out of nowhere and hauled you out by the waist. 

"The fuck-" you started. He hushed you and drug you forward, shoving you down and gesturing you under a pickup. He dropped and scrambled under the water delivery van Glenn had been trying to scavenge a hose from, gesturing forward with his gun. He was covering Glenn, and you got the message, slowing pulling one of your pistols from its holster. 

Then you saw the feet and your heart stopped. There were a shit ton of them, shuffling through the cars and all around you, and you kept your breathing shallow and hoped to God your scent wasn't discernible over the general stench of rot and heat and asphalt. 

Waiting for them to leave was interminable, you wondering whee any of your other people were and if they were ok. You kept eye contact with Shane and Glenn as much as you could, the three of you all that were visible to each other at the moment. 

And then they were gone, and Shane gave you a nod as you started to slide out. Sophia started to cry in the distance, and you were running through the cars with Shane hot on your heels, arriving at the RV just in time to see Lori grabbing Carol and trying to keep her quiet. 

 

 

Rick came back alone, and he found you standing on top of a car and keeping watch as well as Dale. You'd had some choice fucking words for the man, hissed out under your breath to keep from drawing the massive group of them back to you. He'd hissed right back, and Shane had had to break it up. 

Both Shane and Daryl had insisted you stay put, even though you'd been set to head into the woods after Rick and the little girl. When Rick climbed up over the guard rail, his eyes were wide as he looked around. 

"I thought she'd made it back," he said softly, looking guilty as all hell, and immediately a search party got together. 

Rick, Daryl, Shane, and Glenn headed back into the woods to look for her. You bristled, but Shane and Daryl teamed up on you, insisting you stay and keep and eye on things with the rest of the group. Since T Dog was cut up and Dale couldn't see shit, that left you in charge. You didn't like being in charge, but taking care of people was what you did, so you sucked it up and stayed. 

It wasn't long before Shane and Glenn were coming out of the trees, Shane rearranging the grim look from his face as he became visible. You scanned around quickly before dropping from the car you continued to stand on and jogging over to meet them before they got near the others. 

"Anything?" you asked, and Shane ran a hand over his hair. 

"Daryl picked up her trail. She veered off a ways back, started headin' in the wrong direction. Rick and Daryl are still on it. Don't worry. We've gotta keep these people busy; keep the panic down. Gonna move some cars and keep scavenging," he said with a firm nod. 

You scanned the trees worriedly. "I should go out there." 

"Why? To cover Rick or Dixon?" Shane asked, tone odd, and you shot him a look. 

"To find that little girl, asshole. Don't get weird just 'cause we fucked." 

Glenn choked on air and looked between you with wide eyes. "You- Ah, I mean, nothing. Nothing at all." 

You laughed at his expression even as Shane glared between the two of you. "No big, Glenn. It was sex; don't get your panties in a twist. Either of you." 

"Regardless of what we may or may not have done, you're not going out there. They'll find her, and I need your help here," Shane snapped.


	16. Laugh, I Nearly Died

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> references to past child abuse

Everyone cleared a path to get the RV turned around and go back to the overpass; scavenged parts from cars for Dale to fix the hose and other simple spares you might need in the future; pulled everything else your group might find useful. Carl even found a shit load of hand-to-hand weapons that made your eyes light up enough to have Shane giving you a worried look. You flashed him an innocent smile, but you saw the look Lori gave the two of you as Shane rolled his eyes at your expression. 

You were laid flat on the road, half under Merle's bike to give it a better look since you had the time. You'd stripped off your jacket and vest and tossed them down to protect your back from the heat radiating from the asphalt. Shane wandered over and stood above you, looking down at you with a bottle of water in his hands. 

"You want something or you just come to stare?" you asked, not taking your eyes off what you were doing. 

"Why'd you tell Glenn we slept together?" 

You snorted. "I'm not going to hide it. I don't do shame or secrecy with my sex, Officer." 

He kicked the toe of his boot on the ground. "Don't want to go spreading that shit around." 

"Well, if you didn't want people to know about it, you shouldn't have done it," you told him. "I'm not keeping it a secret, asshole." 

"I just don't want it getting back to Daryl and have him try to take my head off, Nameless," Shane snapped. 

"He already knows," you told him, scooting out from under the bike. Shane reached down absently and grabbed your hand to haul you up. You plucked the water from him and took a long drink before giving it back. He frowned from you to the now nearly empty bottle and back again. 

"He does?" 

"Yeah. Apparently he heard us." 

Shane winced. "Yeah, you were callin' my name pretty loud." 

You laughed and grinned at him, unashamed. "I wasn't the only one, Officer Walsh," you said with a smirk, and he rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah, yeah. Ok, look, I came over to ask if you've got any WD-40 in that thing. You and Dixon been known to keep weird stuff on hand. Got a car I'm trying to get running again."

You flipped open one of Merle's saddle bags, digging around to see. "You know, I doubt it, but-" 

You cut off abruptly as you felt something familiar beneath your fingers. Drawing it out slowly, you had to swallow hard against the sudden lump in your throat. 

"What is it?" Shane asked, grabbing your elbow. "Something wrong, YN?" 

"I-" you shook your head to clear it, looking over your shoulder at Shane. "Nothing. Just a blast from the past. I gave this to Daryl, years ago." 

Shane glanced at the vest and comprehension grew in his eyes. "The wings on your tattoo." 

You winced. "Ugh. Yeah. I really should have gotten that thing covered." 

"Naw. I like it," Shane said with a smirk. "Suits you. You're still his, anyway." 

"Fuck off, Officer. I don't belong to anyone. Sorry, no WD-40. Try looking around this lovely shopping mall. I got shit to do," you said with a scowl, shoving the vest back into the saddle bag and dropping back to the ground to keep looking over the bike. 

"Yeah," Shane said quietly as he turned to walk away. "Definitely still his." 

 

 

"Hey, baby," Daryl called as he walked in, stopping to press a kiss on your head where you sprawled on the couch with the tv on. 

"Hey yourself. You riding without me?" you asked curiously, eyeing the leather vest he had on over the flannel with the sleeves ripped out. "You need to layer that bitch with a jacket, you know, to be really safe." 

"I like it like this. Yeah, I took a short one. Give Merle's bike a run," he said with a shrug, cracking the tops off two bottles and bringing them over to you. You lifted your feet and he sat, handing you one bottle as your settled your feet back over his lap. 

You took a drink and frowned at him. "You'll tear your arms up if you slide, Dixon," you warned. "Why didn't you call me? I'd have gone with you." 

"Yeah," he said quietly, and rubbed your leg absently as he started at the tv without really seeing it. "Just wanted to be alone, I guess." 

You stayed quiet, and after a minute he looked at you with an apologetic smile. 

"Sorry. Just missed him today is all. Wanted to be close to him. Damn bike's the closest I can get these days." 

You swung your legs down and shifted around to kiss his cheek and lean your head on his shoulder. "I get that. I feel the same way." 

"Ape hangers're hell on the arms," he commented after another pause. 

You laughed. "Been telling him to get another bike. He bitches about the same thing all the time, but he's too damn stubborn to replace it. When's he get to call again?" 

"Sometime next month, I think." 

 

 

When they got back, they were still without Sophia. 

"You didn't find her?" Carol asked, devastated. 

"Her trail went cold. We'll pick it up again at first light," Rick reassured her.

"You can't leave my daughter out there alone, to spend the night all on her own in the woods!" 

"Out in the dark's no good," Daryl said, and you heard the edge in his voice. "We'd just be tripping over ourselves. More people'd get lost."

Shit, you thought as Carol started yelling at them. Daryl'd told you a story once, about the time before you'd known them. He'd wandered into the woods and gotten lost and nobody'd even noticed he was gone. Leaving that little girl out there had to be killing him. 

You watched him reassuring Carol with Rick and noticed the strain in his shoulders and his eyes that you were fairly certain no one else would have seen. As Carol switched to blaming Rick for Sophia being missing, Daryl looked over at you. He looked lost and desperate, very much like the kid you'd known years ago. You didn't move or change your own expression, but you held his gaze for a long moment as the conversation continued to flow around you. You finally looked away when Rick walked off on his own, head and shoulders bowed. 

You shot a glare at Lori, who should have been going to him. Sure, she was comforting the distraught Carol, but still. Deputy Grimes over there did his fuckin' best, and here he was being blamed for a little girl being lost. 

 

 

The next morning, Rick unrolled the collection of sharp and pointy things Carl had found, and you bounced on your toes. Daryl laughed dryly at you. 

"Everybody takes a weapon," Rick said as you glared at Daryl. 

"Goody," you muttered, reaching in and grabbing a big Bowie knife from the leather case and finding it came with a sheath as well. "Perfect!"

"These aren't the kind of weapons we need," Andrea bitched. "What about the guns?" 

"We've been over that," Shane said from where he leaned against the RV. 

You looked between her and him, eyebrows up, because no one had been over it with you. You had both your guns in their thigh holsters where they belonged, and if he thought he was getting them away from you, he had another think coming. Very, very rapidly. 

"Rick, Daryl, YN, and I are carrying. We can't have people popping off rounds every time a tree rustles," Shane continued. 

"Why does she get to carry? She's a criminal! Legally, should she even have a gun?" 

"Hey," you said mildly. "I have zero felony charges on my record, thank you very much, and I have a concealed carry permit. Somewhere. I think it's in the saddlebag on my bike, back in King County impoundment."

"Only got no felonies because the world ended," Daryl said under his breath, and you flipped him off. 

"Legal ain't really something I'm worried about these days. I've seen her shoot," Shane said with a look at you. "She knows what she's doing with those things. The rest of you just need practice, but we don't have time for that right now. Come on, we got a girl to find." 

"The idea is to take the creek up about five miles, turn around and come back down the other side," Daryl said, his tone authoritative. "Chances are she'll be by the creek. It's her only landmark."

 

 

Somehow, you ended up walking with Daryl. You'd managed to avoid being alone with him all the previous evening, trying to put off whatever conversation he wanted to have. It wasn't hard with all the crazy and with the two of you being on separate watch shifts. 

Now, however, he was in the lead and Shane basically shoved you up front to his side, and here you were. Walking. In silence. 

"So," you said softly after a minute. "You know what I miss? The radio. I've had "Born to Be Wild" stuck in my head for like a month." 

He shot you a look. "I ain't never known ya to like Steppenwolf." 

You grinned. "I don't. Hence, me missing the radio." 

You fell into silence for a few more steps. He was looking everywhere but at you, and you were doing the same thing with him. Finally, he broke the quiet again. 

"We need to talk. I meant what I said, at the C.D.C." 

You sighed. "Which part?" 

"All of it. Look, I got my reasons. I thought- I knew ya wanted Merle, not me. But- I'm thinkin' maybe I was wrong," he said quietly, tossing a glance at you. "Maybe somebody told me wrong." 

"What the hell does that mean?" you snapped, but he held up a hand to silence you, eyes searching the trees. You fell quiet immediately, and Shane and Rick pushed up to where the two of you were as you heard the snap of a twig and rustle of something moving through the brush. 

Daryl crept forward, and you absolutely did not notice how silently he moved with anything other than admiration for his skill. You didn't, for instance, notice the way his ass looked when he crouched as he moved forward or the way his arms looked as he lifted the crossbow. 

You did notice when a rabbit hopped out of the bush in front of him and he hit it dead on with a bolt while Rick and Shane jumped, and you grinned. You still were when he picked the thing up and turned around, meeting your eyes as he held it up by the ears. When he saw your smile, he grinned back, and that knife that always seemed to be sticking out of your heart these days twisted a little deeper. 

 

 

"Look, ya gotta tie it like this; then mess up the trail so it doesn't look like a trail, ya know?" Merle's voice was serious, and you had your hands propped on your knees as you studied his movements. 

"But what if we catch one?" you asked dubiously. "Then what do we do with it?" 

"Ya kiddin'? Then we skin it 'n' clean it. Have us some good ol' rabbit stew!" he answered, and your nose wrinkled. 

"I don't know about that..." 

"Look, ya gonna hang with us Dixons, ya gonna learn to like rabbit, girl," he said, scrambling to his feet. He was twelve, tall and scrawny and vaguely threatening with the half-healed bruise around his eye. 

You'd been hanging out with them for about a week, meeting Daryl on the road every morning and walking with him to school, sitting with him during class, playing or reading or listening to music on a battered Walkman you'd brought from the group home at recess and meal times. Then you'd meet up with Merle for the walk back, and either hang out in their yard or their trailer or out in the woods with them. You'd asked about the bruise the first time you met, and Merle'd scowled and told you to mind your own business. 

You frowned up at him now. "Don't know that I want to hang out with you Dixons," you said, just being stubborn. "Maybe I got other options." 

"You ain't got shit," Daryl's voice came from behind you, and you turned to him with a smirk. He had a rabbit by the ears and was grinning back at you. "We're the only other kids in town that can identify Axl Rose from the first note." 

"Not to mention you're the only ones who'll talk to me. My foster siblings are talkin' about me again," you agreed with a shrug. 

"Want me to beat someone's ass?" Merle offered casually, and you laughed because you knew he meant it. 

"Naw. I don't care. Got you guys, right?" 

"Right," Daryl said with a shy smile, and Merle nodded agreement. 

"Then I'm good."


	17. Janie Got A Gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> major character injury  
> attempted rape/non con of a minor (doesn't actually happen, but gets traumatic)  
> derogatory language toward women

Being generous, the search was not going well. Being realistic, the thing was a shitshow. The guy in the tent who had opted out had gotten to Daryl. You could see it in his eyes.

Then the church had been a bust, with Rick, Shane, and Daryl taking out the walkers inside while you covered the group's backs. Lori and Shane had gotten into a fight, then Shane and Rick had. You'd overheard Carol praying, and your blood had run cold when she said something about how Ed had looked at his daughter with 'whatever sickness was growing in his soul'. 

Something cold and clammy had washed over you, and you'd shoved off the wall where you stood and strode out the doors. 

 

 

The pacing started at two twenty seven am. Your eyes popped open as you heard the creak on the floor outside your door and every muscle in your body went tense. Damn it, it was later than normal. You thought you'd get one fucking night without this shit. 

It was two weeks and three days- well, four days now, considering the time- after your sixteenth birthday. You'd just gotten your licence in the mail after school let out, and Daryl'd grunted as he glanced at it and said the picture didn't look anything like you. The asshole currently pacing outside your door had taken you to the DMV for the test, and he'd made you change from the Rolling Stones tank and wash the red lipstick and black eyeliner from your face before he'd been willing to take you. The person in the picture really didn't look like you as a result, all fresh-faced in a simple grey tee.

When he hadn't started his nightly pace-and-wank at his usual time- twelve thirty sharp for the pacing, one am for the private party- you'd believed you'd caught a break. No such luck. 

You bit down hard on your thumb to keep still and quiet, not knowing if you wanted to cry, scream, puke, or run away more. It was all of them. Preferably at once. 

For half an hour, in the middle of the goddamn night when you should have been sleeping so your damn brain could work the next day in school, you were keeping as still as possible and hoping some fat, middle-aged monster didn't get up the balls to come creeping into your room and try for a visual while he spanked the monkey. Thanks so much, Child Protective Services, you thought to yourself. As the half hour mark finally approached, you bit down on your thumb even harder, tasting the coppery dang of blood as the pacing stopped and the knob on your door rattled. 

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Your heart was pounding in your ears and you slowly, quietly, tossed the covers back and sat up, swinging your feet toward the floor. The door opened as you pushed yourself off the bed to stand, your whole body trembling. 

It was pitch black in your room and dark in the hall outside, so he couldn't see that you were standing as he came in, breathing hard and with one hand fumbling at his pants. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" you asked in a harsh whisper, and he froze. 

"You awake then?" he asked. "You think you can talk to me that way?" 

"You think you can come in here and jack off standing over your kid's bed?" you shot back, disgust and fear making you bold. 

"You're not my kid. And you're sixteen now. That's legal in the Georgia." 

You froze, eyes widening. "What'd you come in here for, asshole?" 

He moved closer to you, and you smelled the liquor on his breath and in his sweat. He reached out and grabbed at you, but you dodged him. 

"Come here, you little tease!" he grunted, reaching again and catching your arm this time. He pulled you close to him and you struggled, his other hand sliding up your body to grab at your chest and squeeze. "Been tempting me for years, jail bait, haven't you? Wiggling your ass around in tiny shorts and showing those tits all the time. Well, you're legal now. I can do what I want, can't I?" 

"Rape's still illegal, no matter what the age," you growled, arching your body away from his touch as you struggled. 

"Shut the fuck up! You're such a whore. You put out for those Dixons over there; you're gonna do the same for me, damn it!" 

Your struggling finally got one arm free and knocked his hand away from your breasts and you hauled back and slammed your fist into his face, pivoting your hip to put power into like Merle had taught you. 

"Jesus fucking Christ! You bitch!" he yelped, grabbing at his bleeding nose. 

You bolted for the window you'd left open over your bed, scrambling through it while your heart pounded and running across the yard toward Daryl's house. You boosted yourself up and through his window, glancing back as your foster dad leaned out of yours and started screaming for you. 

"YN?" Daryl whispered in the darkness, and you slammed Daryl's window and locked it, something you'd never done before. You always left an out for yourself and Daryl, in case of Will. 

Will Dixon didn't have anything on your foster dad tonight, though. 

You crawled into Daryl's bed silently, before he could get up, tears finally streaming down your face. He reached out a hand as you curled on your side, facing away from him, a laid it on your shoulder. He must have felt the shaking you couldn't seem to stop, because he muttered something vile under his breath and tugged and shifted until the two of you had traded places, your back against the wall and him laying between you and the window.

Between you and anything that might come inside. 

He handed you his pillow and didn't ask any questions, and you laid there in the dark, awake. You knew he was too, and after a bit he sighed and spoke. 

"Go to sleep, baby. I got ya back, ok? Talk in the morning." His fingers touched yours briefly, and somehow, you fell asleep.

 

 

The group split up after Shane and Rick got into it, and you found yourself torn over where to go. On one hand, there was the group of mostly professionally helpless idiots who you'd adopted and wanted to keep watch over- like it was your job to do. On the other hand, that group had the ex who was stirring up all kinds of confusing feelings and wanted to talk. 

"Nameless, you with us?" Shane asked as you hesitated while the others walked off. Rick had tried to give his gun to Lori, and you'd pulled one of yours and handed it to her instead. Andrea had scoffed and glared, and between her and Daryl you really just wanted some peace. 

Two officers of the law and one kid sounded peaceful to you now, in a show of just how fucking weird your life had become. 

"Yeah," you said, and felt Daryl's eyes on you as you winked at Carl. "If Carl doesn't mind me busting up the boy's trip." 

"I don't mind," Carl said with a grin. "You're cool." 

"Here that, Officers? I'm cool," you said smugly, and both of them tried not to grin. "It's the vest, isn't it?" you asked the kid as you started walking. "Club colors make anyone look cool." 

"Shut up now, Nameless," Shane said in warning. "Kid don't need to know about your club any more than he does." 

"Oh come on. We're not all illegal. Some of our things are downright above board!" you protested.

"Like what? Those strip clubs you own?" he shot back. 

"Dad, what's a strip club?" Carl asked Rick and you started laughing as Rick shot Shane a pained look. 

"Sorry, brother," Shane said with a guilty expression. 

 

 

When the deer stepped out, you were delighted. Time to see how good your aim really was, and if those years wandering the countryside like the hellion you were would pay off. Before you could shoot, Rick grabbed your arm and nodded at Carl. The kid was grinning, fascinated, and edging toward the fuzzy-antlered buck. 

You stood beside Shane and Rick and watched as the kid got closer and closer. You were having more fun watching their twin looks of pride and delight than watching the kid, so you got a first hand view of the look of spreading horror on Rick's face and the shocked look on Shane's when the single blast sounded and Carl fell. 

 

 

Rick ran. He held Carl in his arms and he ran.

You and Shane trailed behind, moving as fast as the fat bastard who'd shot the kid could go. You had bloodied his face and would have killed him right then if he hadn't been screaming that there was a doctor who could help him. As it was, you had the man at gunpoint, Shane with you, and you were dead silent as you ran behind him. 

When the guy bent over, hands on his knees, you swung his hunting rifle up to hit him with it, but Shane stopped you. 

"Come on, asshole! Hurry up!" he screamed. 

"How far?" Rick yelled. 

"Another half mile! Hershel! Talk to Hershel!" the asshole said. Rick took off and you looked from Shane to the guy. 

"You going or am I?" you asked him, eyes fixed on the wheezing man. 

Shane scoffed. "Go. Watch Rick's back. Don't want you killing your first man now, Nameless." 

"Don't you let him get away, Officer Walsh," you told him in a deadly voice, and Shane grunted. 

"I won't. Now watch my friend's back, Enforcer." 

You ran after Rick.


	18. Comfortably Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> medical stuff

"Rick! Rick, I can take him," you snapped as you reached Rick's side, but he shook his head. You nodded, staying at his shoulder grimly. "Ok. I got your back, my friend. We're almost there," you told him as the farmhouse came into view. 

You were met at the door by an old man, a woman around his age, two kids- including one with a baseball bat, of all things- and a girl who looked pretty close to your own age. You had the rifle up but not aimed as you and Rick jogged closer. 

"Was he bit?" the old man asked, and you dropped the gun the rest of the way. 

"Shot," you said sharply. "By your man." 

"Otis?" the woman asked as the old man came down the stairs. 

"He said find Hershel. Is that you?" Rick's voice was panicked, and you saw the moment the old man went into doctor mode. 

"Get him inside," he said grimly, looking at you once before leading the way. 

 

 

You pulled Rick away when the doctor said he needed room. You didn't go far, just backing him up enough to let them crowd around the bed, and glanced out the window when you heard Shane's voice. 

Rick heard it too, and you followed him as he staggered out the door, looking lost. 

"He's alive? He's still alive?" the man- Otis- asked, and you leaned in the doorway behind Rick. Shane's eyes flicked from Rick to you, questioning, as Rick said nothing. 

You nodded once, and Shane stepped up to Rick and started cleaning off his face and hands. 

"Where is he, brother?" Shane asked, and Rick turned and started to go back inside. Shane gave you a grateful look as he passed, and you reached out and touched his hand, once. 

Your eyes fixed on Otis, though, as he started up the stairs. 

"Ever heard of the Nameless?" you asked softly, and he shook his head. You nodded, expecting that. "Well. We're a club. A gang, really. And I'm an enforcer. Which means I get between the members of the club and danger. You're danger, Otis," you whispered. "I've never killed anyone, but I've covered up quite a few deaths. I bet I can make yours look like an accident. You'd better pray he doesn't die." 

"I am," Otis said seriously, and you spun on your heel and followed the deputies inside. 

 

 

Inside, the doctor had his hands pressed over the gunshot in Carl's side. "Do you know his blood type?" he asked. 

"A positive. Same- same as mine," Rick answered. 

"That's fortunate. Don't wander far. I'm gonna need you. What happened?" 

"I was tracking a buck," Otis said. "Bullet went through it. Went clean through." 

"The deer slowed the bullet down, which certainly saved his life," Hershel declared as you glared at Otis again. "But it did not go through clean. It broke up into pieces." 

"Shit," you whispered. You'd seen a few gunshot wounds. Hard to avoid, being in a gang and all. You'd given a few of them to other people as well; and helped stitch up some less life-threatening ones. Pieces was never a good thing. 

"Indeed," Hershel's voice was steady but worried. "If I can get the fragments out... I'm counting six."

Rick turned to Shane. "Lori doesn't know?" 

"No," Shane said, throwing an arm around Rick's shoulders. 

"My wife doesn't know. My wife doesn't know," Rick repeated, sobbing, and Shane started whispering into his ear. 

 

 

"Little girl goes missing, you look for her. It's plain and simple," Rick repeated, and Shane gave you a wild look. He and Rick had been going round and round as you waited, both of them half-crazed with fear. You wondered if Rick had any idea how much Shane loved that kid; if Rick had any idea the strain Shane was putting himself under to keep it together and be there for Rick. 

If you'd ever had any doubts that Shane cared about Rick, they were washed away in the damn near herculean effort your saw him using to hold himself together. 

"Hey, Deputy," you said, stopping your own pacing to come and crouch in front of Rick. You took his hands, and he looked at you with wide, glassy eyes. "Hey. Of course you do. That was the right call, Rick. He's going to be ok, alright? We've got a doctor. He's going to be alright." 

Rick started to speak, but the door opened, and his attention was immediately gone. He shoved to his feet as the woman who was your age called his name, brushing past you without a word. 

You started to stand and follow, and Shane grabbed your hand as he stood up too. 

"Thank you," he whispered in your ear, and you nodded, squeezing his hand once. 

"He needs blood," the woman said to Rick, and you followed them into the room to hear Carl crying and gasping and see him jerking on the bed as Hershel bent over him. 

"You, hold him down," Hershel snapped at Shane, and you swallowed hard as Shane didn't even hesitate. 

Carl screamed as Hershel dug inside the bullet wound, and the older lady prepped Rick to give blood. 

"Stop! You're killing him!" Rick screamed, and you felt tears welling in your eyes as you watched, helpless. 

"Rick, do you want him to live?" the doctor snapped, not taking his eyes off what he was doing. 

"He needs blood," the older woman said, and Shane yelled at Rick. 

"Do it now!" 

 

 

The kid passing out was a blessing, though it scared the shit out of Shane and Rick. You knew what it was, having seen this kind of thing more than once. You stepped to Shane's side, since Rick was busy being worked on by the older woman, and grabbed his shoulder. 

"It's ok," you whispered to him. "He couldn't handle the pain. It's a good thing." 

"Maybe," Hershel said, giving you a look. "One down, five to go." 

Fuck. 

 

 

"Lori needs to be here," Rick said. "She doesn't even know what's going on. I've got to go find her. Bring her back." 

"You can't do that." 

"She's his mother! She needs to know what happened; her son's lying here, shot!" 

"And he's going to need more blood," Hershel said calmly, reasonably. The man was a damn rock. "He can't go more than fifty feet from this bed." 

You nodded at him to show you understood, glancing at Shane as Rick was levered upright. He staggered from the room, and you and Shane exchanged looks and followed him. Otis and the girl your age were outside the room, and Shane told them Carl was stable for now. 

"Lori has to be here, Shane; she has to know," Rick said, and you sighed. 

"Ok. I get that. I'm gonna handle it," Shane said before you could speak. "But you gotta handle your end." 

"My- my end?" Rick asked, looking confused and dazed. 

"Your end is being here, for your son. Even if he didn't need your blood to survive, there is no way I'd ever let you walk through that door. Hell, man, I'd break your legs if you tried." 

You touched Shane's shoulder, because that was a bit strong, but you agreed with the principle. "Take it from a kid who grew up without parents, Deputy," you said softly. "The most important thing in the world is that you be there for him right now." 

Rick and Shane both reached for you then, at the same time, and you grabbed both of their hands in yours. Shane smiled at you slightly, and Rick just kept looking lost. Shane dropped your hand after a second and started talking to Rick, scooting closer to him and talking about Lori when Rick had been in the hospital; the strength of her. You eased away just a bit, leaving Rick in Shane's hands, and glanced at the woman and Otis, thinking. 

The door opened and Hershel came out. Everyone rose, looking at him with wide eyes. 

"He's out of danger for the moment, but I need to remove those remaining fragments. That was the shallowest one. I need to go deeper to get the others."

"Oh man," Shane whispered, running a hand over his head. 

"There's more," Hershel said, and you watched Rick pull himself together. You could literally see Deputy Grimes appear. 

"Tell me." 

"His belly's distended; his pressure's dropping. Which means there's internal bleeding. A fragment must have nicked one of the blood vessels. I have to open it up, find the bleeder, and stitch it. And he can't move while I'm in there-- I mean, at all. If he reacts the same as before, I'll sever an artery and he'll be dead in minutes. To even try this, I have to put him under. But if I do, he won't be able to breathe on his own. Same bad results."

"What'll it take?" Rick asked. 

"You need a respirator," you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Tube for it. Drapes, sutures, pretty much a whole damn hospital." 

"How do you know that, miss?" Hershel asked. 

You looked at him, thought, and answered with the truth. "I'm in a gang. I've hurt some people, fixed some people, buried some people we couldn't fix. I've been in and out of hospitals for various reasons as well. You learn some things. Where can we get it that's nearby?" 

"The high school," Otis said, and you looked from him to the doctor. 

"That's what I was thinking. They set up a FEMA shelter there. They would have everything we need." 

"Okay," you said, and headed for the door.


	19. Shoot to Thrill, Play to Kill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Of course, they didn't let you just leave. There was talk, debate, and Shane and Otis deciding to go with you. You weren't sure you liked leaving Rick there alone, but you sure as shit weren't going with just Otis, either. 

Maggie was the woman who looked about your age, and she volunteered to get Lori for Rick. You gave her a grateful look as you checked the bullets in your gun, wishing you hadn't given the other one to Lori. You were probably going to need it, if the high school was overrun. You gave Rick a hard hug at the truck and gestured to Otis for the keys. 

"I drive." 

 

You approached the school on foot, glued to Shane's back. He'd taken charge when you stopped the truck where Otis said, and now the three of you crept up around a line of cars and trucks and an ambulance with the back door open. 

"Let's take a look," Shane whispered, and you lifted slightly to glance over the line of cars. 

You immediately dropped back down, shaking your head and stifling the laughter by biting down on your thumb, hard. "Well, that's not good," you whispered when you could do so without screaming. 

"Yeah," Shane whispered back, looking vaguely annoyed. 

"See that big mobile medical trailer across the way?" Otis asked, and you nodded. 

"That's where we gotta get to?" Shane asked, and you huffed a laugh at his resigned tone. 

"Yep," you said grimly. 

 

 

"Sure about this, Nameless?" Shane asked, looking at you again. 

"Yes, asshole. Shut up and help me get the damn flares," you snapped, and the two of you eased toward the sheriff's department vehicle, trying not to attract any unwanted attention. You were hoping to get one alone, kill it, and do another Rick Grimes-style gut bath. Then you'd distract the herd of assholes with some flares tossed when the sun went down and haul ass to the medical trailer. 

The plan hinged on two things- one, the presence of flares in the trunk of that squad car, and two, your ability to bring down one of the zombies without attracting the others. To be honest, that was the part you were thinking probably wouldn't work. There was no way to separate one from the herd except by dumb luck, after all. 

You were right about that, and you ended up skipping the gut bath and going right for the running. Amazingly enough, it went off without a hitch. Shane grinned at you when you slipped through the door and closed it behind you. 

"Ain't bad to have at my back, Nameless," he whispered. 

"Walsh, get the damn supplies," you hissed back, already moving. "Flirt later." 

 

 

You got everything on the list. Shane opened the door, and there they were. The flares hadn't kept their attention like you'd hoped, and you groaned and shoved Otis ahead of you after Shane. 

"Come on, run!" you snapped, the three of you taking off further into the school compound instead of back toward the truck like you'd planned. The damn zombies were hot on your heels. 

Shane ended up using that monster shotgun to shoot the glass out of some of the doors when you got cut off at every turn. You shoved Otis through, used your new bowie knife to take down another and chuck him into his friends, hoping to use him as a sacrifice, and Shane drug you through the doors by the pack on your back. He yanked the cage across the open panels and jammed a pin in place to keep it closed, but you both knew it wouldn't last long. 

Zombie arms were reaching through and the press of them against it was already causing it to buckle as Otis swung his pack off and his hunting rifle up. You exchanged a look with Shane, one eyebrow lifting, and his jaw clenched. 

"Damn it!" 

"Bolt won't hold long," you snapped at him. "Further up and further in, Officer Walsh." 

"Yeah. Nothing for it," he agreed. "Come on, Otis, let's go."

You started running again, you snatching up Otis' pack and adding it to yours on your back. You were thin, but you were strong as fuck. People didn't really understand how damn heavy motorcycles were, and you had to be able to wrestle yours upright if it fell. 

The cage broke moments later, and it was a run for your lives, with no time to plan. The front doors- your vaguely decided upon destination- were chained, and Shane skidded to a halt and looked at you. You jerked your head down the hallway, the zombies getting close behind you, and you shoved Otis down the next hall. You and Shane glanced at each other again, both of you thinking this was a suicide run.

Oh well. 

 

 

You ended up in the gym, trapped on top of folded up bleachers. You looked down at the sea of reaching hands and snapping jaws and sighed. 

"I never liked high school. Hell, I never finished high school," you declared blandly. Shane looked at you like you were insane. 

"The fuck you talkin' about right now, you crazy criminal?" he snapped, and you shrugged. 

"Well, this is looking like the end, Officer Walsh. Just thought you might like to know a few facts about me. Like that I dropped out of high school at sixteen. Never finished. Joined a gang instead, which put me on a direct path to King County lockup and here. Hey, check out those windows over there," you added suddenly.

He stared at you for a minute, and you reached out and grabbed his jaw, physically turning his head. He batted your hand away and looked back at Otis. 

"What's under those?" 

Otis shrugged. "About a twenty foot drop with nothing to catch you except maybe some bushes, then the athletic field." 

"Need time," you observed, and Shane nodded. 

"Gotta get up there. We got to get 'em open and get out." 

"Not me. Maybe you," Otis said. 

"Hey, hey, hey-" Shane started, but the other man interrupted. 

"Come on, man, look at me. You really think I can squeeze through one of them tiny windows? They'd be all over us. We lay down some fire to get a head start. You two stay here. I hop down, draw them away. That gives you the chance to get up the bleachers and out a window." 

"And where do you go?" you asked intently, and he grabbed your hand and waved the flashlight you held over the room. 

"Locker room down those steps." 

"Looks like a good way to get trapped," Shane said, jaw set stubbornly. 

"It's got windows too, and more my size. I get out through one, double back, we meet up out on the field." 

"You're a crazy son of a bitch, aren't you?" you observed, and extended a hand. "Sorry for the threats, earlier." 

He shook it with a smile. "No worries. I'd have threatened me too. Just trying to do right for that boy." 

"You take three shots and you go. After that, I fire. I'll lay down a cover for both of you," you said, looking between them. "Get you both a lead. Shane, I'll be on your six before you know it. Get that window open and clear the area under." 

"The fuck you say," he started, but you whirled to glare at him. 

"I'm an enforcer, Shane; this is what I do. Well, not this, exactly, because the zombies are a fun new element, but close enough. Want to argue while Carl dies or want to get this done?" 

He glared, but he nodded. All three of you aimed, and you took a deep breath. 

"Alright, boys, light 'em up." 

 

You covered Otis as long as you could, taking out the one that grabbed his ankle when he fell. You took out a few more that were on him, and Shane did the same at your side. 

"Go, now," you snapped to Shane as the walkers started following Otis en masse down through the doorway. You picked off one more as you heard glass break behind you, and you turned your attention to covering Shane. 

"Nameless!" he yelled as you started toward the end of the bleachers you were on. "Get your ass in gear!" 

"Get out the window, Officer!" you yelled back, dropping the last two walkers in the room. He did as you ran up the stairs behind him, and you heard his pained cry as he hit the ground. 

You ducked under the window and sat half in and half out, peering down. "You good?" 

"Just get your ass down here," he called through clenched teeth, and gunshots started echoing from somewhere in the building as he hauled himself to his feet and snatched up the packs. 

"Coming, coming," you said, looking down at the drop with distaste. "Can't be worse than that wreck when I was seventeen," you muttered to yourself, and dropped to hang from the ledge by your fingertips. You let go and prayed you could do the tuck and roll when you hit the ground. 

All the air whooshed from your lungs when you hit, but you were able to get back on your feet in a hurry as Shane held a hand out to you. 

"Come on, girl, let's go," he snapped, and you pulled one of the packs from his shoulder without a word. 

"What'd you fuck up, Shane? Heard you," you told him seriously, and his jaw clenched as he glared out over your shoulder. 

"Ankle. It's fine; let's go get Otis and get the hell back." 

You nodded sharply. "Let's go then." 

 

You did ok until you ran into the walker and you had to fire. Shane was exhausted, but moving along with a look of raw determination that had you shoving your shoulder under his and glaring at him until he leaned on you as you moved. 

But that one shot drew three more of them that could get to you, and shit load more against the fence at your back; a fence you didn't trust to hold for long. Shane lifted the shotgun, you raised your pistol, and both of you were about to fire when the lead zombie's head exploded from behind. 

"Ha!" you half-yelled. "Otis! Come on, Walsh, shift your ass," you said, shoving your shoulder back under Shane. 

"You're one crazy bitch, you know that?" 

"Yeah, yeah," you teased, and Otis took Shane's other side as you reached him. 

"Thought we'd lost you," you told Otis. 

"My last rifle round," he said grimly. 

"Mine too," Shane added, and you sighed. 

"Well, fuck. We better more fast then, boys."


	20. When the Levee Breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> minor character death (cannon)  
> casual murder and disposal of bodies  
> morally ambiguous decisions  
> morally really freaking wrong decisions  
> drug use/addiction

The dead of night was not the time you wanted to hear your phone ring. 

"Hello?" you whispered, snatching it up and sitting up in bed. Your feet had hit the floor already, because one am calls were never a good thing. 

"Hey, girlie. Get ya ass over here. Got a situation." 

You turned the light on and shoved a hand through your hair with a sigh. "Legal or no?" 

"Better go with the one that ain't registered, sugar," Merle drawled. 

"Be there in twenty," you said grimly, already reaching under the bed for the Glock there. 

Twenty minutes later on the nose, your cut the engine and flipped down the kickstand, swinging off your bike and pulling off your helmet. You dropped it onto the seat, because this was the Nameless Crow. No one in their right mind would steal from this bar, especially with six bikes gathered near the door and no lights on in the front of the bar. 

Shit was going down tonight, and you checked that you could draw your gun quickly from its place tucked at the small of your back. You peeled your gloves off, shoving them into your back pocket and trading them for your brass knuckles as you strode toward the door. 

It opened as you reached it, the sergeant at arms- your boss in the club- giving you a nod and scanning the night behind you before closing the door and flipping the lock. 

"Sarge," you said. "What have we got?" 

"Merle got jumped," he said grimly, and your eyes went hard. "He was out on delivery; these Vato bitches were waiting for him." 

"They alive? He need medical?" 

The Sergeant shook his head. "No to both." 

You nodded. "How are we dealing?" 

"Take them out and burn them. Need a guard and you were the one we could raise. Plus..." 

You sighed. "He's high?" 

"Highest. President asked for you. He's high and he's pissed, wants to make this a war." 

"Fuck. I'm on it," you said grimly.

 

 

"How big is this fucking high school? My hick town had more people than this rural farm shit and our school was smaller than this," you bitched as you hiked the packs higher up on your back. You had two of the three of them now, Shane and Otis leaning on each other as you led the way with the only gun that had any bullets in your hands- Rick's Python, that he'd given Otis. Otis had the third pack, much to Shane's dismay.

"You pick weird shit to bitch about, Nameless," Shane grunted, and you chuckled. 

"Deputy Do Good says the same thing," you told him over your shoulder. "Now where the fuck is the exit?" 

"Get to the street. Double back to the truck," Otis ground out, and then both of them fell. 

"Fuck it, boys! I'm carrying nearly all the shit here; I can't carry you too!" you snapped, turning back to haul Shane to his feet and then reach for Otis. 

"You should go on ahead," Shane said grimly. "You're the one most mobile. You can make it, bring the truck back for us." 

"I'm not leaving you," you hissed, glaring at him. "There's only one working gun, damn it. I'm not leaving you to be sitting ducks. Come on, Walsh. Not an option." 

"Fine," he snarled, as the walkers came around the corner behind you. "Let's go." 

 

 

You went back to supporting Shane. Otis wasn't doing too great, and Shane needed the assistance to stay moving. With Otis hauling the third pack and struggling with it, you didn't trust him with Shane as well.

"Ok, Nameless, we got a problem. How many rounds you got left?" the deputy asked quietly, and you snorted. 

"Four. Yeah, we got a problem, Officer. What do you propose we do about it?" 

"Give me the gun."

"I'm not fucking leaving you, asshole," you snarled, and he looked you dead in the eyes. 

"Just give me the gun, girl!" 

"No! We keep going, damn it." 

"Fine!" he snapped, and then he lunged for you. He got the gun from you because you just weren't fucking expecting it, and then he shoved you ahead of him. "Go! Run for the truck, now!" 

"Goddamn it, Shane!" you screamed, and Otis looked between you wildly, confused. Shane turned and planted himself, raising the gun at the oncoming herd, and you hesitated a moment longer. 

"Get that truck and get back here for us, girl!" Shane called, and you tossed your bowie knife at Otis with a scream of rage. 

Then you ran.

 

 

You were out of sight of them when you heard the shot. Just one. You paused, eyes wide and heart pounding, and turned, but there was nothing else. 

"Son of a bitch!" you yelled, hands shaking as you forced yourself to keep going. You had two of three packs; most of the supplies. And you were maybe the only person in that whole group who could have done what you did in that moment. 

Rick couldn't. He was too good, to pure and wholesome. Lori and Carol were moms first, fighters second if at all. Dale was too nice. Andrea was two seconds away from insane. Glenn saw the good in the world and wanted to help people more than anything. T Dog wasn't built for this kind of moment. He was the kind who stopped and chained doors to keep walkers from getting to the racist asshole who couldn't get away. 

Daryl didn't believe in himself enough. He'd throw himself to the walkers, like Shane did, believing he didn't deserve to live. 

But not you. Your hands shook and tears ran down your face, but your feet kept moving, kept you going for the truck. You made it back and threw the bags into the cab, sliding in and fumbling for the key you'd left in the ignition. You took a deep breath as it roared to life and you put it in drive, and headed back the way you came. 

You'd leave if you had to, to save Carl. Because you were the only one who could. But you'd fucking check to make sure, first. You told yourself it wasn't just because you needed that third pack as you dashed tears from your eyes.

 

You drove the van, keeping to a stead four miles per hour over the speed limit and observing all the rules of the road. You certainly didn't want to get pulled right now- not when you had a beat up and jacked up redneck in the front seat spewing all kinds of bullshit in a steady monologue and two bodies, shot execution style in the head, in the back of the van. 

"Merle, shut the fuck up, would you?" you said finally, breaking into his tirade about police, Vatos, and his high school PE teacher. What the hell they all had in common, you really weren't sure. 

"Shit, darlin', ya sure are touchy tonight." 

"You're beat to shit and I've got bodies in the back. Yeah, I'm touchy. I hate disposals," you snapped. "Only here because you're fucking high. When's this shit going to end, man?" 

"I'm fine, girl. Mind ya own," Merle said sharply, and you snorted and shook your head. 

"Yeah, whatever, asshole. You're totally fine. Only high most of the time since you got back. Look, I know it was hell over there-" 

"You don't know nothin', baby girl, and ya never will." Merle's voice had gone flat, all the asshole tone drained out of it. 

You sighed and took a hand off the wheel to reach for him as you left Atlanta behind and drove into the dark. You took his in yours and squeezed his fingers. "Ok, brother, you're right. I don't know. I can guess, though. You haven't been the same since you got back Merle. Hell, none of us have. I'm just worried about you, that's all." 

"I know," he said quietly. "I'm worried about us all too. World's gettin' between us Dixon boys and you, darlin', and I ain't never thought shit like that could happen." 

"Me neither," you whispered. "I don't even know who I am anymore, Merle," you said with a sigh. "I'm driving a high asshole and two bodies into the ass end of nowhere and not even batting an eye. What the fuck even is our life anymore?" 

Merle's laugh was grim. "Hell, sugar. Tried to keep ya out of this end of shit before I left. So I'm sorry ya got into it all. Ya wasn't supposed to be in this boat." 

You shrugged, and neither you or Merle let go of each other. "What's done is done. Just try to keep your shit together, ok? I'm only in this deep because no one else can deal with you when you're jacked, you know." 

"Yeah," Merle said softly. "Yeah, I do know." 

 

Shane was limping down the road in the darkness, the third bag on his shoulder and the Python in his hand, and you yanked the wheel hard, tires squealing as you turned. He started moving toward you faster, and you leaned over and shoved open the door. He hauled himself in and looked at you grimly.  
"Drive, Nameless," he said.  
"Otis?" you asked.  
He looked forward out the window, jaw working.  
"I said drive."  
You stepped on it without another word, flooring it as much as the old thing would let you. "He dead?"  
"Will be soon," Shane said shortly.  
You glanced at him in the darkness, staring straight ahead with wide, empty eyes. "You kill him?"  
"No," he snapped.  
"Ok," you said softly. You recognized the signs of someone who'd done something they weren't sure they could live with, but you didn't ask. Plausible deniability was how you looked in the mirror every day sometimes. "Carl's going to live."  
"Yeah he is, Nameless."


	21. Sympathy For The Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> covering up deaths  
> overdose  
> minor character death (cannon)

You slammed on the breaks outside the Greene's farmhouse, grabbing two packs as Shane grabbed the last. Carol's Subaru was in the yard, so at least a few more of your people were there, and you waited to offer Shane your shoulder as he limped around the car. 

The doors opened and Rick and Lori came spilling out, followed by Hershel and Glenn, T Dog, and Maggie. Rick came straight for Shane, taking the pack from him as Shane grunted out Carl's name. 

"Still a chance," Rick said, and Hershel yanked the pack from Shane's hands as Glenn took the other two from you. 

"Otis?" he asked, and you and Shane looked at each other. Shane shook his head. 

"No," he whispered. 

"We say nothing to Patricia. Not till after. I need her!" the old man said, obviously upset, but he headed back into the house in a rush. Glenn followed with the bags, and Rick looked at the two of you. 

"We got cut off at every turn," you said softly, going over and sliding under Shane's arm so he could lean on you and hobble toward the stairs. Rick stopped you with a hand on your arm, and grabbed first Shane and then you into hugs. Lori was right behind him, hugging you for a long time and gripping Shane's arm. 

"We had nothin' left," Shane said when Rick let him go. "Down to like five rounds. Just the Python; Nameless here had it. I told her to take her two packs and go. Damn fool wouldn't listen until I took the gun from her. Otis had the third pack. I was tryin' to- tryin' to make him go ahead of me. Cover him while he followed her. He wouldn't go. Told me to- to go ahead. Said he couldn't run anymore. So I- I did. I knew she'd be comin' back with the truck, and I thought we could- we could get him. But- I look back, and he- he-" Shane cut off and you stared. 

He looked like a man who'd been through hell and back, and that wasn't far off. But he was also a fucking liar, and you could tell. 

"He wanted to make things right," Rick said softly, and turned to you. "Thank you." 

"Stop," you told him, touching his face with a shaking hand. You didn't want his thanks. Not for leaving the two of them and running away, not for leaving Otis behind permanently. "Just stop." 

Rick hooked his hand around your neck and pulled you into his shoulder, and you let him. 

 

 

Carl pulled through, so it was worth it. You told yourself that as you stood under the shower spray once Shane finally cleared out of the bathroom with clean skin and a shaved head. You told yourself that as you laid down on the porch, pillow from inside under your head and blanket tossed over you, and tried to sleep in the cool night air. 

Carl pulled through, so it was worth it. 

You'd lived with worse for less. Somehow, these days, when life was more precious than it'd ever been, that made it harder to accept. 

But you would. 

 

 

You'd been in fights before. You'd been on drug runs and delivered sensitive messages and cold-blooded threats to other territories and been the scary muscle and the unexpected backup. You'd beaten a few people bloody to obtain information or just to send a message. 

You hadn't dealt with a clean-up call yet. 

You knew they'd happened. You'd looked the other way when Merle answered his phone and his face got carefully blank, both before he shipped out and a few times since he'd gotten home. You'd cleaned up blood on the floor of the bar that had been missed the night before; been given carefully unspecific answers to questions. Hell, you'd asked Merle outright if he'd killed two men who'd thought they could punch you and get away with it, and he'd told you he couldn't answer. 

Which you knew meant yes. 

But you hadn't seen it firsthand. Not like this. You hadn't been part of making it happen. You hadn't gotten a call in the pale light of predawn and had a voice tell you roughly to get down to the club and bring a weapon that couldn't be traced back to you. 

You'd had to stop by Merle's for that, since all of his were unregistered and purchased through the club, and you only had the one you'd gotten your concealed carry permit for years ago. 

The president had met you at the door, ushering you in while you clung to your helmet to hide how your hands were shaking. Merle was sitting at one of the booths, scowling and half yelling at the world all around, and you knew immediately that he was on something. 

"What's up with Merle?" you'd blurted before you could stop yourself.

The president had scowled. "That's why you're here. I've seen you managed him when he shows up to meetings like this. Handle him, would you? We've got a mess back there to clean up." 

Now you let yourself into your apartment, desperate to strip off the clothes you wore, grateful you'd dressed in all black so the blood you'd gotten on your shirt didn't show. You smelled faintly of smoke and there was a cold you couldn't seem to shake settling somewhere in your bones. 

It'd been overdoses, and they'd been messy and brutal and incredibly fatal. The club was covering it up because it'd been new shit, a concoction you'd heard rumors of from a chapter up north. The dead were mostly runners from up there, and the other chapter president had asked yours to handle it. 

Merle hadn't gotten killed from the shit, but it had fucked him up badly, and he leaned on you as you stumbled toward your room. You dumped him on your bed, shifted him so he could breathe if he puked while unconscious, and stuck a trashcan by his head for if he was awake and puked. You pried his boots off because they had blood and piss and vomit on them and while you knew you'd be washing your sheets, you didn't want to have to burn them, too. 

Then you took off your vest and jacket, grabbed one of Daryl's old flannels that you'd stuffed in the back of your closet when he'd left three months before- the only one that he hadn't mutilated and taken the sleeves out of- and a pair a leggings and stepped under the hottest shower spray you could get, fully dressed. Your hands shook as you stripped off your clothes and kicked them to the back of the shower before starting to scrub at your skin while you sobbed. 

The water was cold and your skin was raw before you got out, shivering and shaking, and dialed Daryl's number. 

"It's Daryl. Ya need repairs, call the shop. Ya need my brother, call him. Anythin' else, leave a message." 

You hung up without saying anything, sniffing back the tears, and crawled into your bed beside the snoring Merle, curling up with your back pressed to his.

 

 

Shane stepped onto the porch and ran a hand over his newly shorne hair. You snorted a laugh that didn't have any humor in it at all. 

"Got a tell, Officer Walsh." 

He turned wide, blank eyes on you. "What'd ya say, Nameless?" 

You looked at him a little more closely. "Jesus fucking Christ, Walsh. Shit down before you fall down. Did anyone take a look at that ankle?" 

You grabbed Shane by the hand and urged him to sit in one of the rocking chairs on the porch. He shook his head mutely, and you nodded. 

"Ok. I'm going to just take a look, ok, man? Roll up these pants. Where the fuck'd you get overalls that are like three sizes too big? You look ridiculous," you said without really hearing yourself, just idle chatter to maybe get his attention while you checked him out. The officer was deep in shock, you could tell. 

"They're- they were- Otis's," he said as you rolled up the pants and lifted Shane's foot into your lap so you could prod at his ankle. He hissed as you rotated it a little and you nodded to yourself. 

"Ok, Officer Walsh. The good news is I don't think it's broken. It's either sprained or just strained really badly, but if we wrap you up and you keep your weight off it for a couple days, you'll be fine. Sit here and watch the stars while I go look for an ace bandage or something, ok?" you told him, patting his leg as you lowered his foot to the porch floor and rose. "Be right back."

Maggie got you what you needed, guilt in her eyes and tear stains on her cheeks. You told her you were sorry for her loss, and she gripped your hand and smiled at you. Back outside, you found Shane exactly where you'd left him.

"Ok, Shane," you said softly as you sank down to wrap his ankle. "We need to talk about what happened back there. Frankly, you've got a look I recognize. I've seen it in the mirror." 

"He didn't make it," Shane said, something flashing in his eyes for the first time since you'd pulled up and Rick and Lori had run out to meet you. "Otis didn't make it." 

"I know," you told him soothingly, setting his foot down and rising until you were kneeling between his knees and gripping his hands. His wild eyes looked into yours and stayed there for the first time since he'd stepped on the porch. "I know he didn't. Look, you don't have to tell me what happened. It's probably better if you don't. But you have to face it and deal with it, Shane. I'm here if you need to tell me or need to talk to me about how to live with whatever it is. Trust me, I've been there." 

"Thought you hadn't killed a man," he said, lips twisting in a sneer. 

"I haven't. I've buried a few, burned a few, cleaned up after the deaths of a few. I haven't killed anyone, but I've been the cause of a few deaths, both directly and indirectly. I've done things I have a hard time living with, Shane. We can talk, if you want. Or you can sit here and look at the stars and feel the breeze with me, and know that Carl's alive because we made it out." 

He looked at you steadily, and his eyes were a little clearer now. "I'm wearing a dead man's clothes and you're telling me you've done all that shit. I should hate you. You're against everything I've stood for all my life." 

You shrugged at him and squeezed his hands. "World ended, Officer. You can hate me if it makes it easier. I don't mind. Offers still stand." 

"Don't hate you. Tolerate you," Shane said softly. "I wouldn't mind looking at the stars." 

You nodded and rose, and pulled the other rocker up beside him. You huddled into the blanket you'd brought out with you and looked at the stars. 

"Hey, Nameless?" 

"Yeah, Officer Walsh?" you asked, glancing at him to find him staring at your face. His eyes were wide and glassy still, but that wild edge was gone. 

"Thanks."

 

 

You were helping the others gather rocks for Otis' grave; a grave that would be empty. Glenn, T Dog, Maggie, and Maggie's younger sister Beth were working steadily, and you were watching over them all with Shane's massive shot gun in your arms. Shane himself, dressed in the clothes of the man he'd either caused to or simply let die, limped along helping. 

The roar of Merle's bike had your head snapping up, shotgun following as you scanned the road leading up to the house. It didn't matter that you'd know that Triumph's engine anywhere; this was the zombie apocalypse and you weren't taking any chances. They came into view swiftly, Daryl in the lead on Merle's bike, Shane's Hyundai he fixed up on the road, and the Winnebago following. You sighed and swung Shane's shotgun over your shoulder, following your people back toward the farmhouse. 

Rick and Lori came out of the house with Hershel and the rest of his people as yours unloaded. Daryl swung off the bike and gave you a long look. Your pulse pounded in your ears when you realized he was wearing his vest, the one with the wings, and you started at it in disbelief before Dale's voice snapped your focus back.

"How is he?" Dale asked. 

"He'll pull through," Lori answered. "Thanks to Hershel and- and his people." 

"And Shane and YN," Rick added, reaching out and resting a hand on your shoulder. You patted his hand absently. "We'd have lost Carl if not for them." 

As the hugging began, you ducked away from the others, touching Shane's hand briefly as you went by. He wasn't handling what had happened well, and wearing the dead man's overalls certainly wasn't helping. You went off toward the tree, heading to bring back the wheelbarrow Maggie had told Glenn to leave there while you met your people. 

At the tree you paused and heaved a sigh, pressing your fingers to your eyes under the second pair of sunglasses you'd stolen from the department store in Atlanta. The first ones were broken in a schoolyard somewhere.

"You a'ight?" Daryl asked, and you jumped. 

"Motherfucker!" you snapped, shotgun clutched in your hands with no memory of grabbing it. "Are you insane?" You glared at Daryl, who leaned against the tree behind you. 

He snorted. "Should be askin' you that. What the hell ya think you were doin', going on some suicide mission like that?" 

"What do you know about it?"

He shrugged. "Shane just said it was bad. Lost someone on it." 

"Shane's an asshole," you said wearily. "Dixon, look. I'm not ok. Not by a long shot. I've done some shady shit in the name of my club, but-" you broke off and shook your head. 

You didn't know the whole story, but you knew enough to know you were covering something up. It wasn't an all together unusual thing for you, but here and now, it felt so much more wrong than it ever had before. Otis had been a good man. The deaths you'd been tasked with keeping quiet had always been people like you- shady at best and outright bad at worst. 

"Hey. Look, I know we ain't exactly ok, but... Ya need anything, I'm here," Daryl said softly. 

You scoffed and glared at him. "Since fucking when, Daryl?" you asked, incredulous. "Where have you been for the last five years, when I needed my best friend? While I got drug deeper and deeper into all the shit that gang life brings because I was the only person your brother would ever listen to when he was fucked six ways from Sunday? Jesus, Daryl! I've been needing something since the day you walked away, but now you're here?" 

"The world ended, baby," Daryl said softly, his eyes more serious than you'd seen in a long time. Being called baby was something you hadn't heard in years either, not from him, and it fell flat in your ears and burned at something cold around your heart. 

"Oh, bite me, Dixon," you said, but it lacked the venom it usually would have held. "The world ended awhile ago. For me, it stopped around the time you told me you weren't going to be my second choice." 

He grabbed your arm as you tried to push past him, and you swung at him. You got in a solid hit and he let you go, hands up in surrender.

"I had my reasons," he said quietly. "I wanna talk to ya, YN. Shit's changed, and I don't want it to be like this no more. I miss ya." 

"Shit's changed?" you scoffed. "No it hasn't, Daryl. Nothing's changed, that's the problem. You have your reasons that I don't understand, and I have a broken a heart and more black marks on the scoreboard than you even know." 

You grabbed the wheelbarrow and headed back toward the house.


	22. Breaking the Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of strip clubs, strippers, etc.   
> angry sex  
> jealousy  
> mentions of drug dealing and other illegal activities

Hershel's people buried Otis and yours attended the funeral. Hershel asked Shane to speak, and there was a blank wildness in Shane's eyes. You were standing next to him, and you reached out and laced your fingers through his as he tried to refuse. 

"Otis saved us," you whispered. "He saved us so many times. I wasn't- Shane made me go ahead. I was the only one who could. Otis was hurt and exhausted; Shane's ankle was messed up and he was running out of strength. They made me go on ahead, because they were coming. The dead. I took two of the packs and I ran for the truck. So I wasn't there, when- I was on my way back." 

"Shane? You were the last one with him. You shared his final moments. Please. I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning," Patricia, Otis' wife, begged Shane, and his hand clenched around yours. 

You touched his arm with your other hand and he looked away from her crying face and down at you. His eyes were empty and glassy, like they'd been since he climbed into the truck, and you wondered if the others could see it. The guilt and the brokenness in him was clear to you, but maybe that was just because you'd seen it in your own mirror, years before. 

"We were about done," Shane said finally. "I sent Nameless on ahead. Made her go. She didn't- she didn't want to leave us. Either of us. I wanted to be the one. I tried to- My ankle was all swollen up; I was limpin'. It was bad. I tried to give him the gun and get him to run. But he wouldn't. Shoved the last pack at me; told me to get moving. He'd cover me. I- I knew she was comin', with the truck. I thought she'd be able to get us both if we just kept ahead of 'em. But when I looked back-" he cut off and looked at Patricia, then started forward. You went with him, his hand still locked around yours. 

"If not for Otis, I'd have never made it out alive," he said as he grabbed a rock. He almost toppled as he bent over and you grabbed him and kept him upright. 

"Idiot," you whispered to him as he looked at you. "I wouldn't have either. And neither would Carl," you said, with a nod to Patricia and Hershel. You grabbed a rock of your own and you and Shane put them on the pyre at the same time. 

"Any death ever had meaning, it was his," Shane said firmly, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders to limp back to your places in the circle. 

Daryl met your eyes as you went with a guarded expression. You wondered if that was in regards to you holding Shane's hand, or to the load of bullshit Shane had just dropped on everyone present. 

 

 

You leaned against the hood of the truck with a bunch of the others, Maggie unrolling a county survey map and weighing it down with rocks. 

"This is perfect!" Rick exclaimed. "We can finally get this thing organized. We'll grid the whole area, start searching in teams." 

"Not you. Not today," Hershel said bluntly, and Rick looked at him like the old man had just said Santa wasn't real to a three year old. 

You snorted. "How many times did you donate blood to your boy yesterday, Deputy?" you asked with an eyebrow up and Hershel gave you a nod that wasn't quite approving. You had the feeling the old man thought you were trouble, and it wasn't like you could argue. 

"You gave three units of blood. You wouldn't be hiking five minutes in this heart before passing out," the old man said, and turned that steady gaze on Shane. "And your ankle- push it now, you'll be laid up a month, no good to anybody." 

Shane looked better, or at least more like himself, in clothes of his own and a police baseball hat. He looked mutinous, and you rolled your eyes at him. 

"Guess it's just me," Daryl said, leaning over to look at the map. 

"What am I, chopped fucking liver?" you snapped, and he shot you a surprised look as Hershel frowned. 

"Young lady, I'd appreciate it if you didn't use such language around myself and my people. You might have escaped any serious injury, but you had quite the ordeal yesterday as well. Are you certain you shouldn't take a day to rest as well?" 

You met the old man's eyes. "My apologies, sir," you murmured, and he nodded his acceptance. "I'm sure, though. I got a few hours sleep and I'm good to go. I might not have been in the woods in years, but I grew up running around with this redneck ass- uh, jerk," you corrected rapidly, and you thought you saw a faint smile from Hershel. You elbowed Shane as he snorted beside you. 

"If Rick and Shane are here, then the best place I can be is out there looking for her," you finished, turning to Daryl and raising both eyebrows. 

He shrugged. "Whatever. I'm gonna head to back to the creek, work my way from there. Come with if ya want. Ya weren't half bad in the woods when we were kids. I can probably get all the city dust off ya." 

"Bite me, Dixon," you muttered. 

"I can still be useful. I'll drive up to the interstate, see if Sophia wandered back," Shane offered, and Rick nodded. 

"Tomorrow then," he said. "We'll do this right." 

"Need to give our people the gun training we've been promising them," Shane said, and Hershel looked pained. 

Shane argued when Hershel said he didn't want you armed on his property, but Rick pinned Shane with that intensely reasonable look you recognized from King County and Atlanta. The two of them put their guns on top of the map, and you flinched a little at the sight of Rick's Python. You'd last seen in when Shane yanked it from your hands. 

"I'll surrender mine when I get back," you said quietly. "Is that enough, sir?" you asked Hershel. "I'm heading out with Daryl in just a moment." 

Hershel nodded to you, and the group broke up after some more discussion to go their separate ways. Shane had managed to negotiate for one rifleman on lookout and Rick sent Glenn into town with Maggie to get supplies. 

Daryl stalked off toward the camp, and you moved a little more slowly, at Shane's side as he went to the RV for the bag of guns. 

"Hey, Shane? Don't do anything stupid today, ok?" you told him seriously. 

"Yeah? Like what, Nameless?" 

You rolled your eyes at him. "Just be careful. Stay off that ankle and keep your head in the game." 

"I'm cool, girl. Watch your own ass, ok?" 

"Why, Officer, I didn't know you cared," you said with a grin and a wink. 

"Tolerate, Nameless, tolerate," he teased back, heading into the RV with a wave behind him. 

 

 

You fell into step with Daryl just outside the house, after grabbing a knife from the camp's supply to replace the one you'd tossed to Otis. Rick called out from the steps. 

"Daryl! YN!" 

You turned to look at him. "What's up, Deputy? How's the kid?" 

"He's in and out, but he'll pull through," Rick said, touching your arm for a minute. You'd noticed the deputy was getting downright touchy-feely these days, and you weren't really sure what to do with that. "Are you going to be ok on your own?" he asked the two of you seriously, and Daryl snorted. 

"Better on my own. Girl don't even need to come." 

"Shut up, asshole," you said, rolling your eyes. "I'm going, and I'll hold my fucking own." 

"Whatever. Be back before dark," Daryl added to Rick, who looked between you two with worry. 

"Hey. We got a base. We can get this search properly organized now," Rick said. 

"You got a point, or we just chattin'?" Daryl snarled. 

"My point is it lets you off the hook. Both of you, actually. You don't owe us anything. Not after-" 

"Don't," you interrupted Rick, face closing down. "Don't." 

Daryl scoffed as well, turning away and heading for the woods. "My other plans fell through," he tossed over his shoulder, and you rolled your eyes. 

"Don't let anyone touch that bike, Deputy; and don't fuckin' lose my jacket," you told Rick. "And maybe don't mention what happened with Merle. Don't think either of us are ready to forgive you for that." 

"You two going to be ok out there together? I know you're not exactly on the best of terms..." Rick trailed off and you snorted. 

"Thanks for the concern, but I can handle Dixon. Worse comes to worst, we'll just have angry sex and be done with it," you said, winking at Rick's shocked face as you jogged toward Daryl's retreating back. 

 

 

"Hey, I'm home," you called, exhausted. You dropped your keys and helmet on the table and balanced on one foot to work off the straps of one of the ridiculously high heels you'd been wearing for way too many hours in a row. 

"Hey, where ya- what the fuck are you wearing?" Daryl asked, sounding shocked. 

"Ugh. I've had a day, babe," you said, hopping a little as you started to lose your balance. You caught yourself as the shoe finally came off, dropping a full three inches as you landed flatfooted for the first time in something like ten hours. You moaned a little as you worked the second heel off, then tossed them in the general direction of the shoe bin you kept by the door. "So I got called in this morning like I texted you, right? And there's some big emergency up in the north corner; a couple of our boys were cooling their heels at Atlanta PD and the boss couldn't get the lawyer to pick up his damn phone; and that flu strain that's been going around hit three quarters of the girls over at Delirium, waitstaff and dancers alike." 

You pulled your jacket and vest off as you talked, too tired to notice the storm cloud growing on Daryl's face or the way his eyes shot up at what you were barely wearing. "Anyway, so they're passing out assignments and I was working out a new schedule for all three clubs, stealing girls left and right from Apex and Deviant and shifting them over to Delirium, and there was just one stage that I could not get someone to cover- and anyway, long story short, I've been on stage all damn day. I need a shower and like seven beers." 

You rose on your toes to kiss him, then headed straight to the fridge.

"Ya tellin' me ya been on a pole all day? And ya rode home dressed like that? You have any idea how dangerous that is?"

You hooked the cap off the beer bottle with the fridge mounted opener and turned to look at him while you took a long drink. "Which of those things did you want to fight about, Dixon?" you asked finally. "The safety concern or me being on a pole all day?" 

Your hair was stuck to the back of your neck, the thong you wore was riding up something awful under the skintight jeans you'd yanked on without taking off your stage wear, you smelled like cigars, sweat, and old man cologne, and there was glitter all over you. You really just wanted to wash off all of that and the six tons of makeup caked to your face, but you had a feeling you weren't going to get to do that yet. You chugged from the bottle instead as you watched his face contort. 

"Look, you knew I go up there on occasion when I'm needed. Hell, you sat in the back like a stalker and watched me the first time! You have any idea how weird that was, by the way? I mean, it was even weirder that Merle was there too, but at least he was bouncing that day. Anyway, not the point. So what's the problem? Now that we're sleeping together I can't do my job anymore?" 

"No!" he snapped. "But it ain't safe. Neither is ya riding home in those hooker heels and a fuckin' piece of lace for a top." 

"It's a bustier. I can handle my bike, Dixon, no matter what I'm wearing. I put pants and my jacket on; everything vital was protected. What isn't safe about working a stage at Delirium? It's one of our clubs and I'm a full member. I'm literally the safest person there." 

"It's a strip club! Ya know the kind of stories Merle tells about shit people pull!" 

"I wasn't working the back room, God. We save that for professionals. Come on, Daryl, it's all part of the gig," you scoffed, draining the first beer and pulling another. "You don't freak out this bad when I'm running product or tending bar. Why the hell you throwing a bitch fit over this?" 

"Bitch fit? Ya got most of your damn body hangin' out on display for ten hours and I'm throwin' a bitch fit?" 

"There it is," you said softly, glaring out at him. You set down the beer and crossed your arms. "I knew it. I'm not your property, Daryl."

"Think I don't know that? Ya belong to anyone, it's that damn club!" he snapped, stalking up and getting in your face. His eyes were hard and fiery, and- 

And you most definitely should not have been turned on by the look in them. You straightened your spine and got right up in his face. 

"I don't belong to anyone but myself, asshole. I swore allegiance to the club, but they don't own me. You sure as hell don't either." 

"Yeah? Keep thinkin' that, Nameless," he spat out. "They got you sellin' sex to any man who pays the cover charge. What you get outta that?" 

"I'm selling the idea of sex; be specific. Selling sex is illegal. Besides a big ass paycheck from Delirium's books, all my tips- and I got a lot of those today- and a bonus of Nameless pay? I don't know. Satisfaction of a job well done?" you said with a lazy roll of your shoulders. 

Daryl's eyes dropped from your face as you made the move, then snapped back to you. 

"Satisfaction, huh?" he growled, and stepped into you again. You backed into the kitchen table and he had his forehead almost touching yours. "Bet ya ain't satisfied yet," he whispered. "But ya will be." 

Your skin tingled under his hands as he grabbed you roughly and pulled you into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I am bull shitting my way through with the help of Google, imagination, and what conversation I can remember from when my husband watched Sons of Anarchy: 
> 
> motorcycles  
> gangs  
> strip clubs  
> murder  
> drugs and drug dealing  
> covering up crime scenes
> 
> Things I actually know something about: 
> 
> The Walking Dead plot and characters  
> 80 hard rock  
> sarcasm
> 
>  
> 
> If I get things very, very wrong, I will be completely unsurprised and totally willing to fix it if you know better than I do!


	23. What Is and What Should Never Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> references to past child abuse  
> references to past attempted rape/non con  
> references to past sexual harassment

"I heard some rumors," Daryl said out of the blue after you'd been walking for about ten minutes. 

You felt clumsy and loud and disoriented as you moved through the trees, a far cry from the ghost you'd been in the woods as a kid and a teenager. It'd been too many damn years since you'd done anything like this, and man did it show. You weren't as bad as, say, Andrea or T Dog or Carol or Lori, but you were really fucking rusty. You were wincing your way through every rustle of leaves, every rolled stick and broken piece of vegetation as you went. 

"About what?" you asked, totally confused. 

"About- about you'n Merle. Heard 'em before we got together. Then heard more after he came back." 

"Dixon, what the fuck are you talking about?" You were exasperated and sick of conversations with him that felt like you only had about a third of the information. 

"I'm talkin' about us, ya stubborn ass," he snapped, and you glared at him. He'd stopped, jerking his shoulders like he thought you were being dense about something, in that way he had since you were kids. 

"Oh, don't act like I'm an idiot just because I can't follow whatever fucked-up train of thought you're on!" you fired back hotly. "Look, I have literally no idea what we're talking about right now. So either back the fuck up and explain yourself, or drop it, because I'm tired of trying to navigate conversations with you blindfolded on a rainy road!" 

He snorted. "Everything always comes back to a damn bike for ya, don't it?" 

"Yeah, pretty much. Since Merle first started teaching me about parts," you agreed, crossing your arms and glaring at him. "What of it?" 

He sighed and scowled at you. "I'm tryin' to apologize. To- to fuckin' explain. I told ya we needed to talk, and we keep gettin' interrupted before I can get shit out!" 

"Oh," you said finally. "Ok, then. Explain." You didn't sound very friendly, but you didn't really care all that much. You'd been asking the man for an explanation for five years, and he decided now was the time for it? Fine. Good for him. Didn't mean you had to be nice about the whole thing. 

He huffed, pacing a little as he chewed on a ragged fingernail. "I- I guess first off, I'm sorry. For how I did it. In front of the place like that, without any- without any real explanation to ya. It was an asshole move, an' I been ashamed of it ever since," he muttered, and you were frozen in place. 

"Wow. Ok. I- yeah. Yeah, it was an asshole move," you muttered, tears prickling in your eyes. You hadn't been expecting that. You didn't know what you were expecting- probably more accusations about sleeping with Merle that he gave no basis for and refused to accept your rejection of- but it certainly wasn't an apology. Especially not a sincere one. "Thanks, I guess." 

He nodded, shifting to picking at a thread on the strap of his crossbow. "I heard rumors, before he left. About you and him. While we were still teenagers, even." 

"What the hell kind of rumors are you talking about?" you asked. 

"The kind that nobody wants to hear about your best friend and your brother. I bloodied a few fuckin' noses for the way people was talkin'. Things they said ya did. Things they said they was plannin' on doin' for ya initiation." Daryl sounded pissed as hell, even years later, but you huffed dryly. 

"I mean, I heard plenty of that on my own. Merle shut it down real quick, though," you said with a shrug, deciding not to mention some of the things you had done for that very initiation. 

He nodded, pacing again. "Exactly. Merle shut it down. So then I start hearin' these sly little comments about how you're my brother's piece of tail and off limits. I's fine with that, since it kept ya safe from that shit. Merle said weren't nothin' to it, just assholes bein' assholes. But I wondered. Ya got this look, when ya talked to him. Like there weren't anybody else in the world like him," he said, kicking at a stick on the ground. "Used to make me wanna punch somethin'." 

"There isn't anybody else in the world like him," you said quietly. His head shot up and you shrugged. "I love him. He's an asshole and douche bag seventy five percent of the time. He drug me deep into shit I wanted no part of in the club, until I was damn near drowning while I tried to rescue his ungrateful ass. But he saved me, Daryl. Both of you did. I love him for it. Just like I love you for it. I just love the two of you differently," you said with a shrug. 

He looked away, nodding slowly. "Think I'm startin' to see that now. Didn't, before. Just saw ya lookin' at him like he hung the damn sun, heard the rumors. Always figured, ya were his. Then- then that night happened." 

You blushed and looked away this time. He was smiling when you looked back. 

"I believed ya. Even when he came home for leave or when we went to see him after basic, I saw ya look at him like that again and it felt different. It did. But then he was back. He was back for good, and the day he set foot in the club, I got told by three people to watch my back. That ya'd jump ship soon's ya could. Ignored that shit, YN. I did. But it kept goin'. And you- you were so damn happy. Happier than I thought you'd been in ages. Spent every moment with him." 

"Yeah, he was just back! He'd been gone for five years!" you tossed up your hands in irritation, seriously considering shooting him in the ass. Because for fuck's sake- he was pissed that you'd spent all your time with him and his just returned from goddamn war brother? 

He nodded, though, like he agreed with you. 

"I know. Ain't an idiot, just a dumbass," he said mildly, and you shot him a begrudgingly amused look. "Anyway, that night we all went to the bar? Ya were drunk as shit, girl. I saw ya dancin' with him, saw the way ya looked at him. Way he looked at you- he mighta hung the sun for ya, but he looked at you like you'd saved him when he was dyin'." 

You blinked, wondering what in the hell to say to that. Merle always treated you with gruff care and easy affection, but you'd never been more than a sibling to him. At least, that's what you'd always believed. 

Daryl looked at his feet and scuffed at the dirt again. "And then Merle's phone blew up. Six texts askin' if ya were his again; if he'd gotten anything out of ya yet; other shit like that but worse. All while I's watchin' ya dance with him and look at him like that. I couldn't wait around, baby. I couldn't be your second choice."

Was he serious right now? Text messages and rumors and assholes in the club were the reason you'd spent the past five years miserable and alone? All because he wouldn't open up his mouth and fucking talk to either you or Merle? 

"You're such an idiot, Daryl," you whispered, more angry than you'd ever been in your life. But also just- sad. Bone deep sorrow wasn't a phrase you thought you'd ever use, but here you were. "You could have talked to me. To him. But no. You broke my heart, damn it. All I've ever wanted was you." 

"YN-" he said, stepping toward you. You took a rapid step back, shaking your head. 

"No. I can't- I can't do this right now, Dixon. We have a little girl to find. That's what's important. Come on." You started walking again, arms wrapped around yourself in stony silence. 

 

 

You came out of the woods into a clearing an hour later, and abandoned house ahead of you. It was getting easier now to step lightly, old habits of foot placement and weight distribution beginning to come back. 

Daryl swung the crossbow from his back and drew a bolt, and you noticed he was running low. 

"Gonna have to make some arrows there, Dixon," you said with a nod at the bow as you moved forward. "Remember how to fletch?" 

"Ya remember who fuckin' taught you what fletching meant?" he shot back, and you grinned. 

"Yeah. Merle." 

He huffed a laugh despite himself, knowing it was true. "Fair 'nough. You were always better at it then me anyway," he added with a soft smile in your direction. 

"It's a patience thing," you agreed, then lapsed into silence as he rolled his eyes and the two of you got to the house. 

You let him go first because he had the long-range weapon. You were trying to make as little noise as possible out here, so while you had both guns and they were fully loaded again, they were also your weapons of last resort. So you watched his back as he slammed through the door, which was honestly fine with you anyway. 

Watching people's backs was kind of your thing. 

You cleared the lower floor with him, tapping his shoulder and indicating the trash can he'd passed. He lifted the open can of what looked like sardines, sniffing at it and nodding at you. Then you noticed the closet door, cracked slightly, and pointed. He saw, motioned you back behind him, and headed toward it slowly. 

Your heart was pounding in your ears as he eased forward, hoping against all logic that she was curled up in there, waiting to be rescued. You were out there, but it was the third day. You'd already lost faith that she'd be found alive. 

It was a pantry, and Daryl's shoulders drooped. He was the reason you were here. You might have had hated him a little, but you still loved him more than you hated him, and you knew what the girl being missing meant to him. What finding her alive meant to him. 

You stepped up to his side, avoiding the floorboard you knew would squeak from a glance at the way the wood was warped, and touched his shoulder. He flinched from your touch and you rolled your eyes, but your attention was caught by the blanket and pillow on the ground. 

"She could have been here," you said. 

"Mmhhmm. Might be close. Gonna call around outside," he said, stepping away from you without looking in your eyes. 

You followed him, calling out for her as you went to either side of the house. You spotted the flowers and paused, moving over toward them with a faint smile. 

"Whatcha got, girl?" he called, coming over to you. 

"Cherokee roses," you answered, smiling up at him as he leaned over you and you caressed the petals of the biggest bloom. 

He froze, looking down at you. "Ya smilin' at that memory? I'm surprised." 

You felt the smile slide from your face and you sighed. "Yeah. I'm smiling at that one. I was so in love with you, Daryl. You swept me up and took me away from there like the princess in some stupid fairy tale, and punched the shit out of him on top of that. Why wouldn't I smile at that?" 

You headed toward the house without saying anything else, to see what you could find inside. 

 

 

Daryl's hand on your shoulder was gentle as he woke you up. "Hey, girl," he whispered. "Listen, ya foster dad's at the door talkin' to Will. We gotta go, ok?" 

Your eyes snapped open and you stared at him in panic, but he held up a hand. 

"It's a'ight. Will don't know ya here and is yellin' at him about wakin' him up so early. C'mon, we sneak out now we can get inside ya room and pack a bag while they fight it out, ok?" 

"Pack a bag?" you asked, confused, as he ducked out his window and reached a hand up to help you down. You grabbed his hand and scrambled out, the two of you sprinting for your trailer and your own still-open window. 

"Yeah, girl. We're leavin'. I don't know what happened, but I ain't lettin' ya stay there anymore. Done waitin' for ya to get hurt," he snarled, shooting daggers back out your window at his house. You could hear both of them shouting now, Will and your foster dad, and you shivered. 

"Hey- c'mon, baby, get a move on. How much of ya shit do ya need?" Daryl snapped, grabbing you and shoving you in the direction of your closet. 

You blinked, trying to clear your mind, as he drug a battered duffel out from under your bed. You went and shoved clothes out of the way so you could get to the box hidden in the back of the closet that had your birth certificate and social security card, your stash of weed from Merle's last visit, your lockpick kit, and the two hundred in emergency cash you'd been steadily acquiring from various unsuspecting wallets over the past two months. 

"Here," you said, pulling the box out and tossing it in Daryl's direction. He snatched it from the air and continued emptying clothes from your dresser into the bag. 

You probably should have felt embarrassed that he'd stuffed in underwear and bras, but you were too grateful that he knew you well enough to know which of the shirts and pants you'd want to take with you. You scowled when you realized you were still barefoot and in pajamas, and grabbed jeans from the open drawer and slid out of the leggings you'd slept in. He glanced your way as you pulled them off and snapped his eyes back on what he was doing, color rising on his cheeks. You pulled on a Zepplin tank and grabbed the leather jacket from the corner that was your pride and joy as you shoved your feet into battered combat boots. 

"We good?" he asked, and you nodded. "Good. Head out through the back door and into the trees. Gotta grab some shit from my house and get my bike. Meet ya by the road about half a mile up, ok?" He shoved your duffel into your hands and glanced out the window. 

You realized at the same time he did that the voices had stopped. "Shit! Daryl, what's Will going to do if you go back over there?" You grabbed his hand outside your back door, eyes worried on his face. 

He touched your cheek and flashed you a cocky smile. "Ain't gonna do nothin' to me, girl. I'll see ya in like ten minutes, ok? Go!" 

He met you like he said, roaring up on his bike while you fidgeted nervously at the side of the road. Merle'd bought it for him and Daryl had argued, but Merle had looked at him grimly and said it was for emergencies, damn it, and Daryl would take the thing and keep it maintained. He'd scowled, and you hadn't missed the way his eyes had flicked to you before he'd agreed. 

These Dixon boys were the best things that ever happened to you. 

"What'd you do to your knuckles, Daryl?" you asked tightly as he braced the bike and jerked his head for you to get on. He frowned, glancing down at his hand and the blood there. 

"Punched ya fuckin' foster dad. Then punched mine a couple times when he tried to argue us leavin'. Get on the damn bike before they get their shit together and follow us." 

You hopped on after scowling for another minute, wrapping your arms around him and leaning your chin on his shoulder as he took off. "Thank you," you whispered to him, knowing he probably couldn't hear. 

He didn't stop until you were two hours away from home, inside Atlanta proper. Neither of you knew much about the city, and he pulled into a little place called the Cherokee Rose, a little mom and pop shack with a sign proclaiming 'Best Shrimp and Grits Around!' out front and the story of how the Cherokee rose came to be printed on the back of the menus. You'd wondered if either your real mother had shed any tears for you, since you knew for a fact your foster mom wouldn't. 

Inside, you took a table and fidgeted as you looked around. The waitress walked up with bored eyes and asked what she could get for you, not seeming to notice Daryl's black eye and bloody hand or that you were two teenagers on your own. 

You started to warm up for the first time since the night before when your hands were wrapped around a mug of coffee and she dropped the plate of chili cheese fries on the table between you. She even gave you directions to the Nameless Crow with that same tired and dead-eyed look, and you and Daryl smiled at each other from across the table. 

You were finally free.


	24. Come On, Feel the Noise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past sexual abuse  
> mentions of past attempted rape/non con

"All right. Everyone's getting new search grids today," Rick declared. 

You eyed Shane. "How's the ankle, Officer?" you asked him lowly. He snorted. 

"Ankle's fine. I'm going out there," he snapped, but softened the harshness of his tone by running his fingers down your back. 

"Jesus, what is it with you and the deputy? All physically affectionate these days. You'd think you two like me or something," you said, half-teasing but half in warning. You weren't theirs. You weren't property.

Shane snorted, shaking his head at you. "Naw, I only tolerate you. Rick likes you, though." 

"I do. I'd like you more if both of you would pay attention," Rick said dryly, and you bit your lip and smiled sheepishly at him. 

"Sorry, Deputy Grimes. I'll be a good little criminal, I promise." 

He shook his head at you and pointed back to the map. "If she made it as far as the farmhouse YN and Daryl found, she might have gone further east than we've been so far." 

"Look, nothing about what Daryl found screams Sophia to me. Anyone could have been holed up in that farmhouse," Shane objected. 

"Anyone includes her, right?" Andrea put in before you could say something. 

"Whoever slept in that cupboard was no bigger'n yay-high," Daryl said, annoyance in his tone as he glared at Shane. 

"It's a good lead," Rick said, nodding at the two of you. 

"Yeah. Don't be a douche, Walsh. Daryl and I know what we're doing out there," you said mildly. 

"One of us does at least," Daryl muttered, and you flipped him off without looking at him. "I'm gonna borrow a horse. Head up to this ridge right here, take a bird's eye view of the whole grid. If she's up there, I'll spot her." 

"Nice, Dixon. Want company?" you offered, reading the map over his shoulder. 

"You should stay here. On watch," Shane said before Daryl could respond, and you turned to him and raised both eyebrows in disbelief. 

"Come again?" 

"Come on, Nameless, you took one hell of a psychological beatin' back at that school. You might have come out without any physical injuries, but Hershel was right. Day of rest did me a world of good, and you ain't taken one yet," he said, hands on his hips and staring at you. 

Your eyes narrowed. "Officer Walsh, what the fuck are you talking about?" 

"I'm talking about that look I see in your eyes whenever you think no one's looking. Now I know you're tough shit and all that, but leaving people behind is no joke. And you did it twice. I think you should stay here for the day. Rest up. Maybe talk to someone about it." 

You licked your lips and shook your head, laughing a little. Then you took a half step forward and leaned in close to Shane. "I told you not to get weird about shit, Shane." 

He scowled and you heard Daryl mutter behind you. You could feel the others' eyes on the two of you, but you didn't care. 

"This ain't about that," Shane insisted, rubbing at his head.

"No? You sure about that, Officer?" 

"I'm sure. Just think you could use the break." 

"What I could use," you said slowly, one hand pointing to the map, "is finding that little girl. Deputy?" 

"What is it not about?" Rick asked, eyes intense. "Something happen you haven't told us about that night?" 

"Not that night," Daryl said harshly. "Look, I ain't about to agree with Shane on nothin', ya know that. But Imma go up that ridge on my own, YN. Do what ya want," he shot over his shoulder as he stalked away. 

You sighed as you watched him go, some of the camaraderie you'd found with him in the woods evaporating like morning mist. You were getting so tired of the men in your life these days. You missed Merle. His jacked up rants were at least easy to deal with, and when he came down, he was always nice to you.

You whirled on Shane, happy to have a target for your anger. "Hey, asshole? Was that your end game? You trying to piss him off?" 

"You back with him or something?" Shane shot back and you groaned. 

"No, but I don't want to have to break up a cock fight every time I turn around, either. Fine, since he's determined to be the brooding Lone Ranger, I'll go with you and Rick. Try to teach you how to move in the damn woods." 

 

 

"Remember the name of that waitress at the Dairy Queen?" Rick said abruptly into the silence. The three of you had been making your way through the trees, putting up markers without saying much of anything to each other. 

You'd been in the lead most of the way, looking for any sign. You'd been a shit tracker before you moved to Atlanta, and well over a decade of not doing this had made your skills next to nothing, but that was still better than either of the deputies. They also made more noise than a cat in heat, and you rolled your eyes through the first three miles at every snap, crackle, and pop as they walked. You took back all your insecurities from yesterday; you were a shadow in the dark compared to these fools.

"I know you, Shane. There's only one surefire way to engage you in conversation, and that is to start asking you about girls you did in high school." 

You laughed at that, outright, and turned to look at the two of them with a grin. "So I've got high school to thank, huh? You a stud, Officer Walsh?" 

Watching Rick's face as he realized what you meant was priceless, and you grinned at him before you turned around and got moving again. 

"Shane-" Rick started, but Shane cut him off. 

"Maryanne. The waitress. I told you about her?"

"In excruciating detail," Rick said after a minute, tone that of someone struggling to decide if he wanted to drop a subject or not. 

"Excruciating my ass. You used to live for those details back in the day." 

"Bit of a voyeur there, Deputy?" you called to them, teasing. "Shane can give you some details about his more recent exploits if you want." 

"No thank you. I was impressionable. And I may have been living vicariously through him at the time," Rick admitted, and you laughed again.

"Why wouldn't you? With my impressive list of accomplishments," Shane shot back, and you rolled your eyes. 

"Oh come on, Walsh. It was good, but it wasn't that good!" 

"Not what you said at the time, Nameless. You were calling me king, woman." 

"Please. You begged me for mercy," you shot back easily, and glanced at Rick's beat red face. "We're embarrassing the deputy." 

"Yeah, I just remembered why I never ask about this stuff," Rick said, shaking his head as Shane laughed. 

"We can talk about your high school love life then, huh?"

"Well, that's a short conversation. May even already be over," Rick said with a snort. 

"There was Holly, right? Nope, that was me too. There was Sheila. That was the one you lied to me about," Shane said. 

"I never lied about Sheila. I just got mixed up about what the bases meant!" Rick protested, and you cracked up, bending double. 

"Aw, you laughing, Nameless, but how about you? What was your high school career like? Damn woman got some moves, Rick; kind you get with practice." Shane turned to wink at you but stopped when he saw your expression. 

The smile had fallen off your face, and you shrugged. "Sorry, boys. Nothing to add to this. My high school days weren't spent chasing tail, but trying to avoid it." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Shane asked, and Rick said his name in rebuke. Deputy Grimes had a grim look that said he maybe got what you meant better than you wanted him too. 

You flashed him a strained smile and waved him off. "No, it's fine. Means I spent my nights from my thirteenth birthday to two weeks and four days after my sixteenth with my foster dad pacing outside my bedroom door. After I turned fifteen, I started hearing him jack off while he did it- clockwork, thirty minutes of pacing, then-" you made an obscene gesture, and both deputies were staring at you now, standing still with angry faces. 

"What happened two weeks and four days after your birthday?" Shane asked, voice tight and harsh and that emptiness in his eyes. 

"Jesus, Shane," Rick whispered, shaking his head, but you met Shane's eyes. 

"He opened the door." 

 

 

They didn't ask for any details, but you heard Daryl whispering what he knew to Merle when they thought you'd fallen asleep. You lay there with your eyes open and listened. 

"She came in and she was shakin' so hard, man. Didn't say a damn word until I got her back over to her place and was packin'. Didn't know what to do. I knew he'd tried somethin', like we been worried about. Didn't know if he'd-" he cut off with a growl. 

"Kill that son of a bitch it he laid a finger on her," Merle snarled. 

Daryl snorted. "She socked him in the nose. Broke it. Then I broke it more," he added grimly. 

"Good. Got people who'd do somethin' permanent. We know anythin' else?" 

"He tried. Didn't do more than cop a feel from what he said. Even Will got pissed when he heard that. Jumped ship to my side of the fight then." Daryl's voice sounded vaguely amazed. "Asshole started makin' accusations 'bout her puttin' out for us. All three of us. I headed out the door when Will started beatin' the shit out of him. Hauled ass here."

"You done good, little brother," Merle said grimly. "He comes lookin' for her; we'll handle it." 

"Damn straight." 

You closed your eyes when you heard one of them sitting up. You felt the bed shift a little and then the ghost of a hand brushing over your hair. You drifted off to the sound of Merle snoring, happier than you'd been in a long time. 

 

 

Rick and Shane got into an argument later about whether or not to keep looking for Sophia. Shane was running his mouth, treading the line between a friend expressing his opinion and a fuckin' asshole downright poorly. 

"Man, how many times we get called up to look for a missing child? You got seventy-two hours man, seventy-two hours, and then you're looking for a body," he snapped. "And that was before. You honestly think we're just gonna find Sophia alive?" 

"Are you that sure we won't?" Rick asked. 

You stood and watched their backs while they were too busy arguing to do it, wondering how the hell these two had been partners. 

"We being completely honest?" Shane asked. 

"Oh, I'm counting on you to be," Rick drawled, and you shook your head at the sarcasm and anger in his tone. 

"It's math, man. Alive or not, Sophia, she only matters to the degree in which she don't drag the rest of us down." 

"Jesus, Shane," you snapped, finally getting into the fight. "That's cold even to me, man." 

He glared at you before looking away, something like guilt crossing his face. Rick touched your shoulder and went in for more, the two of them arguing about Fort Benning and Carl getting shot and who even knew what else. 

You had a feeling Rick didn't know that what they were really fighting about was Lori and Carl. 

"I failed her, and I'm not gonna- I'm not gonna write her off," Rick snapped. 

"How the hell did you guys ever catch any bad guys?" you asked finally, annoyed with them fighting each other over every little thing. Annoyed with love lives causing so damn much drama when what was really going on was a search for survival. 

"Can you stop measuring and put those things away before you poke someone's eye out with them? We've run into Andrea and T Dog's grid," you added with a nod at the blue flag nailed to a tree. Shane snorted and stalked off, and you looked at Rick and sighed. "I'll talk to him, Deputy. For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing." 

Rick's jaw clenched, but he gripped your shoulder wordlessly before he headed after Shane. 

 

 

It was a tense walk back, none of you speaking. You were all lost in your own thoughts, and you were grateful to see Lori come out from camp and intercept Rick. Shane kept going without a word, heading toward the RV to either clean more guns and brood or hell, maybe take a nap. You didn't know. Honestly? You didn't care.   
You wandered camp for a minute before finding yourself inevitably back at Merle's bike. You started to tinker with it, since there was always something to fix, replace, or clean on a motorcycle, but you couldn't settle. Something felt wrong and you couldn't quite put a finger on what it was. 

When Rick stalked back from Hershel's barn looking somehow more pissed, you decided you could not handle one more argument today. You rose from leaning on Merle's bike and headed his way, making a snap decision. 

"Deputy," you called, and he paused. "Hey. I'm going out after Daryl. We're back, Andrea and T are back. Dixon's not. I'm just going to head out along the way he said he'd go, see if there's anything wrong. Can't shake this feeling." 

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea, YN," Rick said softly. 

You smiled at him. "Good thing I wasn't asking for your permission then, Deputy Grimes. See you in a couple hours." 

You walked away before he could do anything but call your name.


	25. Dazed and Confused

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> character injury

You followed Daryl's trail, the horse's hoof prints clear even to you. You were starting to think you'd been a paranoid idiot and everything was fine when you saw the signs of it rearing. 

"Shit," you muttered, squinting at the ground and wishing you had half Daryl's skill at tracking. Finally you gave up and just walked to the ridge, looking down through the brush. It was a long drop to the riverbed below, and your heart plunged over the edge and fell for eternity at what you saw. 

"Daryl!" you screamed. "Daryl, damn it!" 

Your pulse was pounding as you looked for a way down, but there wasn't anything. There was nothing, and he was down there, passed the fuck out, with a zombie tugging at his shoe. 

"Damn it, Dixon, get the fuck up!" 

You were thinking about shooting it when you remembered you'd surrendered your guns back in camp. Suddenly, between one panicked heartbeat and the next, Daryl was moving, exploding into action. He kicked the walker off, scrambling backward and reaching for his crossbow. When he didn't get it, he punched the thing instead, then used a stick to pound its face in. You had a hand pressed over your mouth to keep from screaming again and distracting him at the wrong moment, stuck up on the ridge where you couldn't help. Your heart pounded and your hands shook as you watched the second one approach.

He yanked his last fucking arrow out of his own side and somehow still drew back the bow, though you could hear the pain in his cry from where you were. You leaned over and puked up what little was churning in your stomach when he shot the thing through the skull and promptly passed out again. 

"Ok," you whispered to yourself when you were done. "Ok. Well. What the hell are you going to do, Nameless?" You looked down the ridge and then along the creek bed, wondering if there was an easier way up somewhere further down. 

It didn't look like it, and you didn't think Daryl had enough time for you to find out. You'd have to get down there yourself, and then somehow get him and you back up the ridge. Sure, ok. That's all. You could do that. 

 

 

He woke up again when you reached him and shifted the frankly disgusting shirt out of the way to see how bad the arrow had torn him up. It wasn't pretty, and you swallowed hard to try to clamp down the fear that wanted to overwhelm you. It wasn't the first time you'd seen him injured, you reminded yourself. 

He came to with a yell, swinging the crossbow at your head. 

"Hey!" you snapped, ducking it. "Dumbass, I'm here to rescue you. Just call me Skywalker."

"YN?" he asked, sounding dazed. 

"In the flesh," you replied, trying for cheerful. "You're bleeding like a stuck pig, Dixon. Strip out of what's left of that shirt and give it to me so I can plug you up, ok?" You were keeping pressure on the wound with one hand and tugging on his shirt with the other, already trying to figure out how the hell you were getting to the top of the rise.

He stared for a minute, eyes confused, then his shaky fingers touched your face. "Ya real?" 

You hated that you leaned into his touch, but you did. Years of bad blood didn't fucking matter when he was laying there bleeding and looking at you like he couldn't believe you existed. Heart in your throat and tears on your face, you let yourself run your own fingers over his hair, just once. "I'm real as far as I know, babe. But then again, as Black Sabbath says- 'if it seems to be real, it's illusion.'"

He laughed shortly and groaned. "Ya quotin' Sabbath, ya real enough." 

"That's the spirit," you grunted, and helped him sit. You tugged the shirt off him yourself, wadding it up and tucking it under the bandage he'd already made for himself out of the sleeves. 

Somehow, he made it to his feet, though he swayed once he was there. You scooped up the crossbow and slung it over your own shoulder, pulling the arrow from the walker's head and snapping it back into place on the end of the crossbow so it wouldn't get lost. You tried not to think about the symbolism behind his blood mixing with a walker's and coating the thing.

"Lemme draw that back, so it's ready to go," Daryl grunted, but you looked from him to the rise with an eyebrow raised. 

"Think not, Dixon. Come on, this is going to be hard enough as it is. Just get moving." 

"Wait, wait," he demanded, making you stop and easing down onto a log. "Gotta- gotta eat somethin' first." 

"Yeah, that'd be ideal," you muttered, tossing your hands up. "But I don't have anything." 

"I do." 

 

 

He split a damn squirrel open and ate it fucking raw. You let him, because frankly you'd seen worse. And he needed what little power that squirrel would give him. You stopped him from making a necklace out of zombie ears, though you almost didn't just from the sheer sly humor that lit up his eyes when he muttered about it. Plus, it was probably the most heavy metal thing he'd ever suggested, and Alice Cooper would have been proud. 

Your friends back at camp probably not so much, though.

You were getting along the best the two of you had in years, and you didn't want it to end. It was like you were kids again, seeing how much trouble you could get into out behind your houses. Seeing how many solutions to problems you could come up with from what was on hand before you had to go back and get something to help you or give up an idea entirely. 

You were shaking your head and teasing him as he grabbed the stick out of the zombie's skull with a squelch. You had his arm around your shoulders, helping him up the rise while you traded insults and inside jokes and laughter. Even if it was strained and worried laughter from both of you, it was the most at peace you'd felt in ages. 

You noticed when he started to get slower, less certain of his movements. He was coming to an end of his rope real damn fast, and a lesser person never would have made it as far as he had to begin with. You were only halfway up the rise when it started, and the jokes and laughing faded, replaced by pained grunts and exhausted gasps of air. You drove him forward, urging him up and refusing to let your own worry show.

You weren't at the top yet, but you were close. You eyed him and the distance left, considering. 

"Ok, Dixon. Here's what we're going to do. In a bit, I'll climb up ahead. We're close, babe, ok? When we get where we need to be, I'll haul you up." 

"Ya cain't haul me nowhere. I ain't exactly scrawny," he muttered, blinking at you with eyes that were starting to lose their focus. 

"Yeah, I know, showoff," you teased, trying to keep him with you. "I've seen the arms. You're fucking Superman. But if I can free my legs from my own bike when I'm trapped, I can haul your ass the last little bit up this damn hill."

"Think I'm Superman?" 

"Shut up." 

"Make me," he shot back, but it lacked a lot of emotion as his foot slipped on the next step and he groaned as his side banged on the rise. 

"I won't have to if you fall down this damn hill again. Pay attention, Dixon," you snapped, fear making you harsh. 

"Yeah, yeah." 

 

 

The last few feet were hell. He'd stopped hearing you, stopped seeing you. He didn't respond to your jokes or encouragement, just climbing with a snarl locked on his face. When he snapped at you in response to nothing, saying he liked it better when you were missing, your heart stopped. 

"What?" you asked. He hauled himself up another step, slid, regained his footing. He looked up at the ridge above you and scowled. 

"Since when?" A beat later, he grunted and got up another inch, and snarled again. "You never took care of me. Talk a big game but you was never there." 

It clicked then and you went cold. He was talking to Merle, and that was almost enough to break you. First the school, Shane's wild eyes, talking to the deputies in the trees about your foster dad, then the heart stopping terror of seeing Daryl down there. Now he was talking to Merle? How in the hell were you supposed to deal with all this? What were you supposed to do right now?

God damn it, you missed them both so much. You missed the world like it'd been before Merle shipped out. 

"Come on, Daryl, you can do it," you muttered, watching his progress. You were spotting him from below now, knowing he wouldn't make it back up again if he fell and hoping you could catch him if he did. You knew you were going to have to make a decision soon, though, about staying below or going the rest of the way on your own and helping him up. 

"Hell, ya ain't here now. Guess some things never change," he grunted and took a risky step. 

"Shit," you muttered, and scrambled up past him while he yelled that he knew what he saw and you'd best shut the hell up. "Merle talkin' to you about your chupacabra story? Damn, he never would let that go. Especially since you're the one who planted the idea in my head," you told him conversationally as you passed him and hauled yourself over the edge. 

He stopped speaking when you started, so you kept up the monologue as you got to your feet and turned around to get him. 

"Of course, both of you teased the shit out of me for believing in it, which I hardly think was fair. But whatever," you continued, and your heart stopped when you looked over the side and he was clinging to it by his fingertips. He was glaring up at you and you knew he wasn't seeing your face. "Shit! Daryl, come on, babe. Just- just climb. You don't get to fucking fall and die on me, asshole. We've got unfinished business. Now grab my hand!" 

And son of a bitch, he did. 

 

You pulled him up and fell backwards, collapsing flat on your back for a minute to let your heart rate settle. 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Daryl," you said after a minute. He had fallen beside you, breathing hard, after grabbing you in a hug when he made it over the ridge. "You lucid right now or still having a conversation with your asshole brother? Cause I'd like to yell at you, but only if you know who's doing it." 

"Know who the fuck I'm talkin' to, baby," he grunted. "Thanks." 

"Any time," you answered, fingers reaching for his beside you before you knew what you were doing. You held on when he jumped and then gripped you hand tightly. "Don't do that again."

 

 

The two of you were covered in mud and blood by the time you staggered out of the trees into the house came into view. It wasn't all his blood on you either, though there was certainly enough of that. You'd encountered a few more zombie assholes on the trip back, and you'd been the one to take them out, with your knife. 

Stabbing things in the skull was harder than it looked. And messy. 

You were both exhausted, and you were hovering at Daryl's elbow to keep him upright. He was weaving as he walked, and you'd never been so glad to see two deputies running toward you in your life. Then you realized Shane was jumping as he ran on his messed up ankle and Rick had a gun, and the too of them and Glenn and T Dog were coming at you with weapons drawn. 

"Damn it, Shane!" you yelled, and he jerked. Rick's gun was up as the four of them stopped in front of you. 

"Is that Daryl?" Glenn asked. 

"That's the third time you've pointed that thing at my head," Daryl snarled. "You gonna pull the trigger or what?" 

"Smartass," you snapped at him as he stumbled a little, finally just grabbing his shoulder even when he tried to brush you off. "Damn it, Dixon. I know you hate it when I help you when you're in pain, but for fuck's sake we're not teenagers! Just let me!" 

He turned and glared as Glenn bend over in relief and Rick dropped his gun. Shane ran a hand over his head and glared at you like it was your fault he'd run out here on a bum leg. 

"Getting worse there, Liberace," you told Shane with a nod at his completely unbuttoned shirt. He flipped you off and you were mid-return when the shot rang out and Daryl fell beside you. 

You screamed once- no words, just fear. "Son of a bitch," you shouted. "I did not haul your ass all the way back here for someone to take you out!" you muttered, dropping down beside him. 

"I was kiddin'," he said as you grabbed at his face, and you pressed your forehead to his with a weak laugh. 

"Shit," you said again. "Rick, damn it, stop screaming and help me get him up!" You started pulling him to his feet and Shane was at your side. Rick grabbed the other side and Shane tried to take the arm you held. You shot Shane a look. 

"Mind the ankle, Officer Dumbass," you told him, sliding your arm around Daryl's waist and taking half his dead weight as he sagged between you and Rick. "I've got this." 

"Is he dead?" Andrea yelled as she ran up, and you glared. 

"No, but you might be," you snapped. "You grazed him. He's unconscious." 

"What the hell happened?" Glenn asked. "Look at him! Look at you, YN!" 

"Be glad I convinced him not to bring the ears," you muttered.


	26. Sweet Love of Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> mentions of past child abuse

You stayed on the porch while they stitched him up and argued about the doll. Your hands were shaking, and you didn't want to go in there while someone was fixing him. You kept getting flashes of his back, in various states of ripped to bloody fucking pieces, at different ages. That first time you'd caught the aftermath, sneaking in after hearing the screaming to find Merle working on Daryl with a deadly rage in his eyes and the set of his jaw. That time he'd tried to stitch himself and had ended up knocking on your window, blood all over him and his face way too pale. 

The one time Will caught you in Daryl's room after school, you'd snapped at Will for being an asshole and he'd come after you. Daryl'd gotten between the two of you, yelling for you to just go, damn it, but you hadn't. You'd tried to fight back and you'd gotten punched in the face and into Daryl's dresser for your trouble, blacking out when your head cracked against it. You'd woken up to Merle's frantic eyes and Daryl's face a mask of pain, holding a bag of ice to his cheek as he looked at you. You'd wanted both of them to go to the hospital that time, but they refused. Stubborn asses.

"Shit," you muttered, rubbing your hands over your watering eyes. 

"How's he doing?" you heard Andrea's voice faintly from around the corner. 

"He'll be alright. How are you?" Dale asked. 

"I shot Daryl." 

Yeah, she did. And you really wanted to deck her for it. 

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Dale said dryly. "We've all wanted to shot Daryl." 

You laughed helplessly at that and yelled toward them, "Ain't that the truth!" 

There was a pause and you heard Dale's soft 'oops'. 

 

 

You skipped dinner with the crowd in favor of conversation with a grumpy Dixon. 

"Hey. How you feeling?" you asked him as you stepped into the room. He'd been reaching for the blanket as soon as he heard the door, scrambling to cover the scars on his back. He stopped when he realized it was you, though. You'd seen it all before. Hell, you'd stitched most of what caused them before. 

"Bout as good as I look," he grunted, honestly. 

You smiled a little. "Yeah? Must be feeling pretty good then, Dixon." 

He stared at you. "Ya flirtin' with me? Did you get shot in the damn head too?" 

You rolled your eyes and dropped onto the bed beside him, stretching your legs out and tipping your head back against the wall. He was staring at you oddly, and you couldn't blame. You'd told him the day before that you couldn't handle dealing with your ongoing relationship drama. Then today had happened. 

You were tired of fighting with him. Merle's disappearance should have shown you that anyone could be dead in a heartbeat. Seeing that walker kneeling over Daryl had told you just how badly you'd miss him if the worst happened. Fighting with someone you loved this much about past grievances just wasn't worth it.

"I miss you, Daryl. Can we be friends again?" you asked seriously, looking down into his eyes. 

He stared up at you, obviously not comprehending. "What the hell ya sayin'?" 

"I'm saying- I'm saying I almost lost you today. For real. And I'm so fucking tired of being angry at you, Daryl. I've been angry at you for years, and it's such a damn waste of time now. You're an idiot for a thousand things, asshole. I don't forgive all of them yet. But I don't want to spend all my energy pretending like you aren't the most important person in the world to me," you told him, touching the back of his hand lightly.

His eyes softened and he turned his hand over to grip your fingers. "Most important person in the world to me, too," he whispered, something raw in his face and voice. "Miss my friend." 

"Want her back?" you asked with a crooked smile. 

He looked at you seriously. "Maybe more than I want my brother back." 

You let out a surprised gust of air. "Jesus. That's pretty damn bad." 

"She's a damn good friend." 

You looked at him for a long time, not saying anything. Finally, he smiled shyly at you. 

"Wanna stay?" 

 

 

It was like you'd crawled into his window again, a kid looking for friendship and comfort. Carol brought up food and seemed surprised to find you sitting cross-legged on the bed, hands moving as you told him a story about some shit you'd gotten into with Merle while he was high. You were describing running from the Atlanta PD in step-by-step detail, complete with hand motions. Your boots were on the floor, vest was draped over the chair beside the bed, and Daryl was leaned back against the pillows, hand holding his side where the bandage was and laughing his ass off when the door opened. 

Carol had paused, eyes wide, as you'd stopped talking and smiled at her. She made a comment about never having seen either of you smile like that before as she set the tray down. Then she kissed Daryl's forehead while you watched, amused. 

"You did more today for my little girl than her daddy ever did his whole life," she told him seriously. 

He waved that off. "Didn't do anything Rick or Shane wouldn't have done." 

"I know," Carol said simply. "You're every bit as good as them." 

When she left, you looked at Daryl's surprised, cautious face. "She's right you know, Dixon," you told him. 

"Naw, she ain't," he said with a dismissive scowl. 

"Yes, you are. Trust me. I've gotten to know all three of you fairly well, you know," you told him, grabbing his hand. "You're just as good. Better in a lot of ways." 

"Better'n Shane?" he said, a flash of anger in his eyes and his sneer. 

"Don't. We're being friends again, Daryl; don't go all caveman on me. I'm not your fuckin' property," you snapped at him, and he looked away. 

"Sorry," he muttered. 

You squeezed his hand and leaned over his lap to see what Carol had brought. "Hey, this shit looks good. Come on, share. I didn't get any squirrel earlier," you teased, and his smile slid over his face again. 

 

 

You fell asleep stretched out beside him, still talking about anything and everything. As you'd drifted off, you'd felt a feather light touch on your face and heard what you would have sworn, if it'd been anyone else, was crying. But it was Daryl, so you laughed to yourself as you fell asleep, knowing that couldn't have been right. 

You woke up when Hershel knocked and came in to check on Daryl's stitches. The old man's expression didn't change, but he paused when he saw you sitting up and rubbing at your eyes. 

"Good morning, Mr. Dixon. Miss. I would appreciate it if in this house, only married couples share a bed from here forward." 

You flushed. "Sorry, Mr. Greene. We aren't together like that. Well, not anymore. We were just talking, and I fell asleep. It won't happen again." 

"Yes, well. Your personal lives are your concern as long as they are not under my roof. Now, I need to check Daryl's stitches," he said, tone of vague disapproval never changing. "If you could excuse us?" 

You grabbed your boots and vest, leaning over to kiss Daryl's cheek more to annoy the old man than anything else. 

"See you later, Dixon. Heal good," you told him casually. He gave you a slightly amused, slightly apologetic look as you ducked out the door. You rolled your eyes and winked at him, closing it gently behind you. 

 

 

On the porch, you sat down and pulled your boots on, staring out at the fields and the distant trees as the sun rose. It was pretty, you supposed, even if you preferred the glass and neon of the city. 

"Hey," Rick said, walking up to you. "How's he doing?" 

You smiled up at him. He leaned against the railing beside you as you finished lacing your boots. "He's fine. Hershel's in there with him now. I don't think he likes me much." 

"Who, Daryl?" Rick said with a teasing smirk, and you rolled your eyes at him. 

"No, Deputy Grimes; Hershel. He's nice enough, but everything I do seems to disappoint him somehow," you said with a shrug. 

Rick laughed. "I'm not surprised. He's religious. He's our host, though." 

"Don't worry, Rick. I won't do anything to jeopardize our place here. Are we looking for Sophia today?" 

"Yeah. I'm calling a meeting by the truck in about ten minutes. Just going to check in with Hershel first about a few things," Rick said with a smile. 

The door behind you swung open and you looked over your shoulder. You hopped up with a smile for the scowling Dixon in the doorway. "Hey, Daryl. Get kicked out already?" 

He flipped you off casually. "I'm goin' to a tent. Don't wanna be cooped up inside all damn day." 

You hovered at his shoulder as he started down the stairs. "Are you cleared to be moving around this much?" 

"Stop fussin', girl; I ain't dead yet," he huffed at you, obviously annoyed. You made a face back at him but didn't move away. 

"Well, I'm glad you're on your feet, Daryl," Rick said seriously, clapping him on the shoulder. "YN, once you've got him where he needs to be, come see me and Shane at the truck." 

"I don't need no babysitter!" Daryl snapped as Rick walked away. 

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, Dixon. Faster you tell me where you're headed, the faster you get there." 

 

 

"Hey, boys. What's on tap today?" you asked as you sauntered up to Rick, Shane, and Jimmy, one of Hershel's people. 

"Thinking about taking a run up this way after gun practice," Rick said, gesturing to the map. "I'm going to hold down the fort here while Shane goes out. But I want you to take backup. After what went down with Daryl, I don't want anyone going out alone. We stay in pairs." 

"I'll take suggestions on a partner," Shane said, and you raised your eyebrows at him. He barely glanced your way. 

Rick looked between the two of you and you shrugged. Officer Walsh didn't want you along, he could take someone else. Glenn walked up with a basket of peaches, looking shifty. 

You took one and passed Rick another. He took it and gestured with it before taking a bite. "See how they do on the range, then take your pick. YN, you going to help teach out there?" 

"I've never tried to teach anyone before, but I suppose I could try," you said with a lazy shrug. 

"We'd like to join you for gun training today," Beth said from behind Rick, and you bit into your peach again and watched. 

"Hershel's made it very clear; I can't involve any of your people without his permission," Rick said firmly. 

"He doesn't like it, but he consented," Beth replied. 

"Otis was the only one who knew guns," Patricia spoke up. "Now that he's gone, we've got to learn to protect ourselves." 

Shane went stiff, but you took another bite of peach without changing your relaxed posture. Guilt sprang up in you again, but if you acted like you had something to hide, someone would try to find out what it was. It was a law of nature. 

Shane stalked off as Rick told the women that he'd ask Hershel himself. You watched as he went over to Carl, looking all kinds of cute and a hell of a lot better in his dad's sheriff hat. You smiled fondly at them as he and Shane talked, but then Shane's face went hard and he tossed his peach pit violently away. When he held out his hand and Carl put a gun in it, your eyebrows shot up and you immediately started walking away. That shit was so not your problem.


	27. Say You're A Winner, But Man You're Just A Sinner Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> murder/cover ups  
> morally grey characters and decision making

You did gun training with them, coaching Carol and Patricia and Beth through. You applauded Carl and Andrea with the rest of them and found yourself wandering around camp and trying to ignore the muddied mess of undercurrent running through. You spent most of the day fiddling, first with Merle's bike and then with some of the other vehicles in the group, finally stopping Hershel on his way from one task to the next to ask if he minded you taking a look at his family's vehicles as well. He said that was fine with him and thanked you, and you'd told him it was the least you could do after all his kindness and hospitality. 

He made comments about your group moving on soon, and you considered asking what in the hell that meant. After some thought, you realized you really didn't care. Move on or stay, you were just tired of the drama. 

Of course, it looked like the drama wasn't tired of you. Shane and Andrea came back, and you could tell at a glance that those two had gotten it on while they were out there. You shook your head and went back to work under the hood of Maggie's Mercury. 

"You tellin' me to leave?" Shane's voice came from the other side of the car. 

"I know you've been planning to. Maybe now is a good time," Dale said seriously. You rested the heel of your hand against your eyes with a sigh, wondering why this shit kept happening around you. 

"This about Andrea?" Shane scoffed. 

"I'm looking out for the group," Dale said after a pause. 

"Think the group would be better off without me, Dale? Why don't you tell that to Rick or Lori? Their boy would be dead if I hadn't put my ass on the line," Shane snapped. 

"And YN, and Otis's," Dale fired back. 

You held your breath as the silence grew. You could handle what had happened to Otis, whatever it was. Hell, even if Shane had put a bullet in the guy's brain and lied to you outright, you could still handle it. It wasn't easy; but you'd done worse. Carl had lived because of Otis. Shane, on the other hand, was low key falling apart. 

"You've been vague about that night, about what happened," Dale said. "So has she, but she wasn't there. You were." 

"Otis died a hero," Shane said finally, and his tone held an edge of danger you recognized. You put the wrench in your hand down and turned, leaning against the engine so you were still hidden behind the hood but ready to join the argument if you needed to. 

"So you've said," Dale spat back. 

"A little boy lived because of what went down that night. I think you ought to show some gratitude." Shane's words were an echo of your own thoughts, and you wondered if maybe some of what you'd been telling him since you got back had sunk in.

"I wasn't there," Dale said. 

"No, man, you weren't." 

"But I was the time you raised your gun on Rick." 

What the actual fuck? This was the first you'd heard about it, and your hands tightened on the rag you'd been using to absently scrub at the grease on your fingers. Shane drawing on Rick? You knew he was a little unhinged right now, but that hardly seemed like what you knew about the man. 

"You had him in your sights, and you held him there. I know what kind of man you are," Dale spat. 

"You think I'd shoot Rick?" Shane's voice didn't hold an edge of danger anymore; it held the sincere promise of it. 

You winced, looking down at your feet and debating what to do. This was hardly any of your business, but you'd slept with the man, after all. You'd been through hell with him in that school. You gave just enough shits about him to want this to not go badly. On one hand, you wanted to hear more about him drawing on Rick. On the other, you didn't really want him to kill Dale. 

"That is my best friend. That's a man that I love. I love him like he's my brother. You think that's the kind of man I am?" 

"That's right," Dale agreed, and you had to give it to the old man. He was an idiot, but he had balls. 

"Well, maybe we ought to just think that through. Say I'm the kind of man who'd gun down his own best friend, what do you think I'd do to come guy that I don't even like when he starts throwing accusations my way? What do you think?" Shane's voice was a whisper and you didn't hear a response from Dale. 

Shane came striding toward you. He passed without noticing you until you called his name. 

"Officer Walsh." 

He whirled, eyes wide, and didn't relax when he saw who it was. "What you want, Nameless?" 

"You fuck Andrea?" you asked casually. 

"You care? Thought it was no strings attached," he snapped, clearly still looking for a fight. He was still standing there, though, which was what you'd been looking for. 

You shrugged. "It was. I don't give a shit who you screw, Walsh. You still tolerate me?" 

He sighed, running a hand over his hair and giving you a look that might have been amused. You weren't really sure. "Depends. Why you asking?" 

"Just thought I'd offer some advice. Maybe ask a question," you said, holding his gaze steadily. 

"What you want to know, Nameless?" he said, spreading his hands like he had nothing to hide. 

"When did you draw on Rick?" you asked seriously. He scoffed and looked away. 

"So you heard how much of that?" 

"All of it. Answer the question, Officer." You shoved off the vehicle and walked toward him, crossing your arms and giving him a hard look. 

He stepped forward to meet you, getting in your space. "What's it to you?" 

"You're coming a little unraveled, Shane," you told him seriously, not backing down. "I did too, the first time I had to cover up some deaths. It was overdoses, and Merle was high as kite and almost impossible to handle. Almost, because I could always seem to manage him, somehow. So they called me in. I got a little messy in the process, and after? I fell completely apart. I don't blame you for anything that happened that night. Shit, Officer. You could have shot him and kicked his corpse to the zombies and I would keep your secret with no judgement. Because we saved a little boy. And because I'm just a stone cold bitch like that sometimes." 

You paused and made sure you had his attention. "But Rick? He saved my ass. I owe him. And he's that little boy's dad. Rick, I care about. So if I need to be watching his back, I need to know." 

Shane scoffed and frowned at you. "Rick ain't in danger of anything from me but a broken nose, girl. At worst, we'll trade a few blows and call it even. Wouldn't be the first time."

"Good," you said with a sharp nod. "Then we'll move on to the advice. I don't give a shit who you fuck, but two things: one, it's the apocalypse, man. Make sure you wrap it, because Merle's meds for the clap are gone and babies are a shit idea right now. And two, don't get all weird. This group is messed up enough without more sex drama. And lay off threatening Dale. You aren't so great with the coping right now, man. Figure it out. I'll help if you need it. If fucking Andrea helps, good for you. Just get yourself together before you come apart at the seams, man." 

"What if fucking you would help?" he asked, and you gave him a bored sigh. 

"I don't share. We were one and done, asshole. Now move along," you said, jerking your head as you stepped back. "I got a Mercury with an engine that needs a tune up." 

"You even know what you're doin' with cars instead of bikes?" he called as you walked back, and you flipped him off. 

 

 

"Whoa! What is that?" 

Merle glanced up at you and smiled. "Hey, girlie. Whatcha doin' out of school?" 

You shrugged. "Ditched. Teacher's an asshole." 

He laughed. "Never gonna get a good education that way." 

"Oh, like you are?" you shot back. "Shouldn't you be in school too, or is tenth grade different than fifth? Seriously, dude, what is that?" You nodded in the direction of the parts spread everywhere over a tarp and the half-destroyed, rusty frame of a motorcycle. 

"This here's gonna be my ticket out, baby girl," Merle said with a smirk, ignoring your questions about him being in school. "It's a '58 XLCH, and Imma fix her up and ride her off into the sunset." 

You laughed. "Hey Prince Charming, how the hell are you going to do that if it's in pieces?" 

"Gotta be in pieces so it can run later, darlin'. Come 'ere, I'll show ya."

You dropped down beside him, backpack landing forgotten in the dirt, handing him tools and listening as he named parts and explained what he was doing and why. It was a lot of complicated lingo and some serious gushing over how cool it was going to be, and you followed maybe a third of what he was saying. But you'd caught the excitement in his voice and he swept you up in it, so you drank up everything he said. You'd look some of this shit up in the library later so you'd know what the hell he was saying when he started talking about cc's and sportsters versus cruisers and all kinds of other stuff. 

Fifteen year old Merle was the coolest person you knew, and he thought this bike was cool. So you'd learn about it and be cool in his eyes too.

"How do you know all this?" you asked a few hours later, staring at him in wonder. 

He shrugged. "Dunno. Always liked takin' things apart and findin' out how they worked. Been helpin' Will out down at the shop for years. Ya pick up a few things." 

"Can I come help?" 

"Hell naw," he snapped, instantly shaking his head in refusal. 

Your shoulders dropped. "Oh. Ok." 

"Don't want ya around Will or the guys down there. He hangs out with ex cons and army grunts, girlie, and they're drunk half the time. Not the type for a sweet little girl to be around," he said, bumping your shoulder with his. "But ya can help me with this one." 

You scowled at him and blew hair from your face. "I'm not a little girl. I'm eleven, damn it. And nobody's ever described me as sweet." 

"That's 'cause ya keep cussin' like a fuckin' sailor and won't stop listening to Iron Maiden," Merle teased, ruffling your hair while you frowned and bitched at him.

You smiled a little, though, when he rolled his eyes and demanded you hand him a flathead. Working with him like this would be even better than working down at the shop. 

 

 

Everyone was quiet gathered around the group's campfire the next morning. The Grimes' had moved out of the farmhouse now that Carl was well enough to be up and moving, and Daryl had cleared out the day before. You'd been crashing in his tent again, and somehow it'd been easy enough to fall into the routine of sharing space with him like that. 

Hell, when it was something you'd been doing since both of you were kids, it wasn't even awkward. Crashing out after an exchange on insults was second nature to you both, and you'd fallen asleep smiling. 

Carol was passing out eggs, and you glanced up as she came and added a second helping to Daryl's plate. He frowned, but didn't refuse, and she looked at you and winked. You smirked and smothered a laugh, nodding back to her seriously. It was nice to see someone taking care of him for a change.

Shane caught your eye a minute later as he accepted some as well. He stabbed a bite and glanced at you, and you smiled at him. He glared for a minute before unbending enough to nod and smile back. Progress. You still weren't sure what had crawled up his butt the day before, but it seemed to be crawling back out again. 

"Um, guys," Glenn said nervously, shoulders hunched as he looked around at you. "So... The barn is full of walkers."


	28. Scarred for Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of possible suicide attempt  
> mentions of overdose  
> murder and covering up murder

"You cannot tell me you're all right with this," Shane demanded of Rick. Everyone was now outside the barn, most of them having taken turns looking through the slats, and now the arguing was going to begin. 

"No, I'm not, but this is not our land. We're guests here," Rick snapped out. Looking at him without the ever-present uniform was strange, but it was still Deputy Do Good who was yelling back at Shane. 

"This is our lives!" Shane yelled, striding away to stare out angrily at the fields. 

"Lower your voice," Glenn hissed. 

"We can't just sweep this under the rug!" Andrea protested. 

You stood by Daryl, fingers tucked loosely into the straps of your empty thigh holsters. Daryl had his arms crossed, and the two of you glanced at each other. You were on the same page, it seemed- concerned, but willing to let the deputies argue it out and make the decisions. You didn't know why he was so willing to leave things in their hands, but you didn't mind. Rick had made good choices- for the most part- so far. You thought all groups needed clear hierarchy, and this one had it, even if all its members didn't agree. Rick and Shane were president and vice president, Lori was kind of the secretary, Dale was road captain in a lot of ways, and you and Daryl had sort of filled in as sergeants at arms. It worked, and that was good enough for you. 

Now, if the president and VP could just stop arguing long enough to agree on a course of action, that'd be great. 

"We cannot let this stand. We need to go in there, and we're got to make things right or we've just got to go. We have been talkin' about Fort Benning for a long time, now we have go to-" Shane settled his hat on his head resolutely, but Rick interrupted him. 

"We can't go." 

"Why, Rick? Why?" 

"Because my daughter's still out there," Carol said harshly, and Shane pressed his hands to his face and half-laughed. 

"Car- Okay, I think it's time that we all start to just consider the other possibility-" Shane began, and Rick snapped at him again. You rolled your eyes at this repetition of their argument out in the woods, and once again wondered how in the hell these two had ever caught any criminals at all. 

"Shane, we're not leaving Sophia behind!" 

"I'm close to finding this girl," Daryl added, angry. "I just found her damn doll two days ago!" 

"You found her doll, Daryl. That's what you did. You found a doll." Shane said, tone so full of condescension and general assholery, you snapped at him. 

"Dude, back the fuck off. We need a solution here, not you being a dick!" 

"I'm just sayin' what needs to be said," Shane shot back, heading toward you. "You get a good lead, it's in the first forty-eight hours!" 

"Shane, stop." Rick tried to get in the way, but you held your ground as Shane ran his mouth. Daryl huffed beside you and started pacing, and Shane's attention snapped his way. 

"And let me tell you somethin' else, man. If she was alive out there and she saw you coming, all methed out with your buck knife and blood all over your face, she would run in the other direction! And Nameless there ain't much better, that damn leather-clad biker bitch look all coated in mud and blood and guts and shit. Two of you scream trouble every chance you fuckin' get, and we've got you out there looking for a kid? Jesus!" 

You scoffed and grabbed at Daryl, holding him back as he took a run at Shane. "Hey, Officer, your asshat is showing!" you yelled as you kept getting in Daryl's way when he tried to duck around you to get to Shane. 

"Back off!" Rick yelled at Shane, and you saw Lori shove Shane back as well. He staggered back a step, froze, and glared at her. 

"Keep your hands off me," he snarled and started to walk away. 

"Just let me talk to Hershel," Rick called after him, jaw tight. "I'll figure it out." 

"What are you gonna figure out?" Shane screamed. 

"If we're gonna stay, if we're gonna clear out this barn, I have to talk him into it. This is his land!" Rick snapped. 

"Hershel sees those things in there as people. Sick people. His wife, his stepson," Dale put in, and Rick rounded on him asking if he knew. Turns out, he'd talked to Hershel the day before. More screaming began, but your attention went to the barn. 

"Dixon?" you said softly, grabbing for your knife. 

"I see it," he agreed, and both of you stepped toward the front of the group as the barn doors started to rattle and shake as the walkers inside started trying to get outside. 

You put yourself in front of Lori and Carl as the others finally noticed, and shot Shane a glare. "Happy now, dickhead? Come on, people, if we're going to yell at each other, we need to get away from the damn barn." 

"Yeah," Rick said slowly. "Yeah, we do. Let's go, everyone." 

 

 

"Asshole don't know what the hell he's talkin' about," Daryl raged, pacing back and forth while you stood and watched, stalk of wheat from Hershel's field spinning between your fingers. "Like he fuckin' knows anything about findin' a girl in the wild!" 

"He's an asshole," you agreed cautiously. "But, Dixon, listen. I want to find her too, but- what if he's right?" 

Daryl rounded on you and got up in your face. "The hell ya say?"

What was it about men you'd slept with invading your personal space during arguments? you wondered. Lord. "Ok, first? Get out of my face. I'm tired of you and Shane thinking you can get all personal just because you've seen me naked." Something hot and hard came into Daryl's face and he took a long step back as he sneered. 

"Second," you continued mildly, ignoring his expression. "I'm not saying we should just give up on her. I'm just saying, it's- it's been awhile. Like a week, I think. Maybe we need to start thinking about the possibility that we won't find her." 

"Guess you and ya boyfriend back there are on the same damn page then," he snarled, flinging his hands up as he glared you down. "Just leave that little girl out there, who gives a fuck that I found her damn trail." 

"No, we're not. If you fucking listened every now and then, Dixon, you'd have heard me say I don't think we should give up. If anyone can find her, it's you. I believe that. I just said we should start talking about the possibility," you shot back, crossing your arms and raising your eyebrows at him. Finding her meant a lot to him, and you hoped he would. But you didn't want him getting killed in the process, and you wanted him to start preparing for what was starting to feel inevitable. At some point- probably soon- the search would come to an end. One way or another. 

"So he is ya boyfriend? That asshole?" 

You tried to keep up with the sudden subject change. "What the hell are you talking about? I thought we were fighting about Sophia." 

He scoffed and started pacing again. "We ain't fightin'. Just havin' a discussion." 

"No, I'm pretty sure we're fighting," you corrected, lips twitching in amusement. "I just think you haven't decided exactly what you want to fight about. Not that that's unusual." 

"Bitch," he snapped. 

"Asshole," you snapped right back. 

"What ya see in Shane, anyway?" he said finally, looking down at the ground. "Ya still sleepin' with him?" 

You snorted. "No, he's fucking Andrea now. Me and him was a one-time deal." 

"Then why ya hangin' around him so much? Takin' his side, holdin' his damn hand at the funeral? Ya know somethin' went down, right? That what he said was a load of bullshit." 

You sighed. This time it was you who moved, taking a few steps away to stare out over the fields. You remembered a dark road, breath harsh in your lungs as you ran for the truck, and a single gunshot echoing. "Of course I know. I'm not an idiot, Daryl. We went through hell together. You weren't there." 

"You shouldn't have been there either," he bit out. 

You glanced over your shoulder at him. "Shut up. Carl was fucking shot. And it's a damn good thing I was there. I saved their asses more than once. They saved mine back, but still." 

"That don't explain why ya care about him so much. Pretty sure he killed Otis." 

"He says he didn't," you whispered, going back to looking sightlessly at the field. "Daryl, it was- we weren't going to make it. He made me leave them behind. I came back for them and it was just him. The look in his eyes-" you broke off and turned to Daryl, gripping the edges of your vest in your hands. "I've seen that look before. In the mirror. The first time I worked a cleanup. And the second, and the third. I stood in my shower and scrubbed my skin until I bled once, trying to get the blood to come off my hands. I cried until I puked. Then I went to sleep, woke up, and kept your brother alive." 

He blinked at you and looked away, guilt all over his face. "He didn't want ya in that side of things." 

"Yeah, I know," you said harshly. "Two days before he landed in the hospital, when you told me you hated me? I'd done a disposal with him. I got called because it was Merle, he was fucked up, and he was threatening to start a war. I told him I was only in that deep because of him and his drugs. Asked him to get his shit together and told him I didn't know who I was anymore. Hell, I was driving out of Atlanta with two dead assholes who'd been fucking executed and it wasn't even the strangest thing I'd done that week." You broke off, shaking your head and wiping at your cheeks where you'd started to cry again. 

"I- I didn't know about that," Daryl said softly, stepping toward you. 

You held up a hand to keep him back. "Yeah, I'm not surprised. I asked him in the hospital if he did it on purpose. The OD. He never really answered me, but- but I think I was right. I think he was trying to take himself out of the equation so I wouldn't get called into that stuff anymore. I told him it didn't matter if he died; it was too late for me to get out. I was in too deep." You drew in a deep breath and shook your head again. 

"I meant it, too. I could cover up cold-blooded murder and not bat an eye. But I'd lost a lot of me in the process, and it's not coming back. What happened to Otis? It doesn't really matter to me, Daryl, because a boy lived. That boy lived, Shane and I lived, and that's good enough for me." 

"That's cold, girl," Daryl said sharply, angrily. 

You shrugged. "I'm cold, babe. That's just what happened. You dumped me, Merle needed a handler, and I got cold. Shane's on the same path."

"So ya gonna, what? Save him or encourage him?" Daryl's eyes were hard as he asked the question and you sneered. 

"Maybe encouraging him will save him. I might be cold, but I'm fucking alive, aren't I? I'm ok with who I am. I do what needs to be done, no matter what." 

"No matter who gets killed in the process too, huh?" 

"Go to hell, Daryl." 

"You first," he snapped, and stalked away. 

 

 

You wandered around camp for awhile until you saw Daryl heading toward the stable hauling a saddle. 

"Ok, now I know he shouldn't be doing that or he'll open those damn stitches," you muttered, and took off after him. 

Carol caught up to him first, and you hovered outside the barn while she tried to talk to him. Dumbass was trying to split himself open again. Hearing Carol say she didn't know if her daughter would even be found hurt your heart, especially since you agreed with her. 

It hurt Daryl more. That was three people in one day saying the same thing, while he was trying too hard to find her. The thunk and the cry of pain from him had you two steps closer, but then he roared at Carol to leave him be. You paused as he muttered something, then Carol was coming out of the barn, tears in her eyes, and saw you. 

"Hey," you said softly, waving. "I was coming to stop his stubborn ass. You ok?" 

She nodded, sniffing back tears. "I'm fine. He's not." 

"I know," you agreed grimly. 

"Can you help him?" 

You hesitated, scuffing at the ground with your foot. "Honestly? I don't know. Five, ten years ago? I could have. Now, we're- we're barely friends again." You gave a helpless shrug, and it hurt to admit that you might not be able to reach him. "In some ways, I know him like the back of my hand. In others, he's a stranger." 

"Try," Carol said softly. "We need him. He needs you." 

"Does he? Or are we fire and gasoline, Carol?" you whispered, lips twisting in a wry parody of your smile. "We loved hard and fight harder. Maybe I shouldn't be trying so hard to hold onto what was. Old life is gone, after all." 

"No," she shook her head and touched your arm. "Some parts of it are still here. All we have is each other. You've got to hold on to that." 

 

 

You wandered back to the barn, wanting to keep an eye on it. It'd held up so far, but there was a first time for everything. Plus, you wanted to brood a little in peace.

Shane came back too, walking around and testing locks without even noticing your presence. When one of the walkers threw itself against the doors, he jumped back and reached for the gun that wasn't at his side. 

"It's secure enough, Officer," you spoke up, and his head jerked toward you. You raised an eyebrow at him as he muttered something under his breath. "Still being a dick?" 

"If being concerned about our safety makes me a dick, then I guess I am," he snapped. 

"No, it's the way you're lashing out at everyone. Want to talk?" You settled back against the wheelbarrow you'd chosen to sit beside, stretching your legs out and crossing them at the ankles. "Maybe the leather-clad biker bitch can help." 

"You gonna try to tell me you're insulted by that?" he asked with a grin. 

"Nope," you answered cheerfully.

He stared at the barn as the doors rattled some more. "This shit's unbelievable. And Rick wants to talk about it." 

"It's not our land," you said with a shrug, and he sneered. 

"It's our lives at stake. And I thought you were all about the past rules not applying." 

You sighed. "Would you sit down? I'm getting a crick in my neck looking at you. Old rules don't apply, in a lot of ways. Old loyalties, dividing lines, etc. If it were up to me, I'd grab my guns, climb into the hayloft, and pick them off one by one." 

"I like the sound of that plan," Shane muttered, finally coming over and sitting down beside you. 

You snorted and faced him, drawing your legs up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them loosely. "I bet you do. But it's not up to us. It's up to Rick and Hershel." 

"Why the fuck's it up to them?" 

"Because they're the presidents." 

He gave you a blank look and you laughed. 

"Humanity's the club, Officer. Rick's president of our chapter. Hershel's president of theirs. We're in another chapter's territory, jackass. Clubs shouldn't fight their own chapters, but if one of them fucks up enough, they can be disbanded by the organization as a whole." 

Shane was staring. "Everything about crime to you, Nameless? And who the hell made Rick president?" 

"The group," you said with a shrug. "You, when you agreed to go to the C.D.C." 

"Yeah, that was a damn stupid decision." 

"No, it wasn't. It wasn't a super successful one, I'll grant you, but we learned some important things about the world in general. The disease or whatever. Information is always good," you argued. 

"Living's better," he shot back. 

"You're alive, Officer Walsh," you said, amused. 

He snorted. "Not for long with those damn things in the barn." 

"They're an issue, I'll grant you that," you agreed. "But are they really the biggest problem you've got right now? You and Rick aren't just butting heads all the time over walkers." 

"That girl's dead. We both know it." 

You nodded slowly. "I think she is, yes. But I also think it's too soon to give up." 

"How the hell can you think we're gonna find her? It's been a week," Shane said harshly. 

"I know. But it's important to people. We can't give up yet, Shane." 

He snorted and fell silent. You waited, shifting to sit cross legged and fiddle with the strings of your combat boots. The soles were getting worn and you were going to need new shoes soon. Son of a bitch, that was going to be a pain in the ass. 

Maybe Glenn could find some in town, you wondered idly. 

"It's Lori." Shane's voice was so soft you almost didn't hear it. "And Otis. Feel like I'm going crazy. Don't know who the hell I am anymore." 

You sighed. "Do you want to tell me what happened with him, or do you want my advice in general terms?" 

He shook his head and ran a hand over his hair. "Dale thinks I'm a killer. Don't need to give him another target. Don't want you to have to lie." 

"So you did kill him," you said flatly. 

"No!" he snapped, turning to glare at you. "I didn't- Not directly." 

You nodded. "Yeah, I've been there. Guilt's a bitch." 

"Yeah," he whispered, for once not denying it. "And Lori- I was going to leave. That's why I fixed up that Hyundai on the highway. Then after Otis, Lori asked me to stay. What the hell's that mean?" 

You shrugged. "It means she doesn't want you out there on your own. She might not be yours, Officer, but that doesn't mean she doesn't care." 

"Women are so damn complicated," Shane muttered. "What the hell do you even want from us anyway?" 

You couldn't help the laughter. "Fuck if we even know, man." 

His laugh was harsh, but real. "How the hell do you do it, Nameless?" He wasn't asking about men and women anymore, and you knew it.

You shrugged. "Honestly? I decided I had two options- make different choices or learn to live with the ones I did. I had Merle to take care of, so different choices weren't an option, really." 

"So you learned to live with them." 

"Yeah. Can you?" you asked him seriously. 

"I don't know," he whispered after a minute, looking at his hands.


	29. Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> references to teenage bullying  
> drug references

Rick came storming from the farmhouse. 

"Uh-oh," you muttered, and Shane looked up and followed your gaze. 

"Shit," he said in agreement. He raised his voice as Rick got closer. "What's it gonna be, man?" 

"We're- negotiating," Rick said after a minute, glancing down at where the two of you sat. 

"Negotiating," Shane said flatly. "Clock's ticking." 

"Shane, we've talked about this. Don't be an asshole," you said wearily, but Shane climbed to his feet and ignored you. You leaned your head back against the wheelbarrow and hoped for patience, lightning, or an act of God to get some sense into these guys heads. 

"There's over a dozen walkers in there. About a stone's throw from our camp, Rick. Where we sleep. If we're not gonna go in there and clear it out then we just got to go." 

"We're not gonna clear it out and we're not going to go," Rick started, and Shane was talking over him about needing your guns. 

"Rick, I actually agree with him on the guns thing. Ideally, we'd clean the damn thing out," you continued when both of them shut up and looked at you. "I realize neither of you ask for my opinion when you have these little strategy sessions of yours, but I keep being present for them. So here we are," you said with a shrug. "It's Hershel's land, but it's our lives. I don't want us to leave. This place is- well, it's not my idea of paradise, but it's someones. And it's unscathed so far. But an agreement has to be reached. Either the barn goes or we need our guns back." 

"We can't leave. We can't clear the place out. We can't have our guns," Rick said, but he was calmer. Both of them were calmer, which could only be a good thing. 

"Why do you want to stay here when it's not safe?" Shane asked, clearly frustrated, but he was actually asking and not just talking over Rick. 

"We can make it safe," Rick said. 

You banged your head against the wheelbarrow as they started talking over each other again, literally just firing 'how?' and 'we will!' at each other at increasingly higher volumes. They shut up and looked at you again. 

"Seriously, officers, how the fuck did either of you ever put someone like me behind bars? Did you fight this much when you were working together? Here, help me up," you ordered finally, extending a hand upward. Shane grabbed it and hauled you to your feet. "Thanks. Rick, what's going on?" 

You crossed your arms and fixed him with your no-nonsense look, the one that had quelled Merle Dixon's high as a kite ass on many occasions. So far it had yet to work on Rick, much as his intense-friendly stare hadn't seemed to work on you. But still, there was a first time for everything, apparently.

He sighed. "Lori's pregnant," he snapped. 

"Fuck," you said, pressing your hand to your eyes. 

"We need to stay," Rick ground out through his clenched jaw. 

"We need our guns," Shane answered, voice sounding dazed. 

"I can work this out," Rick snapped. He stalked off as you watched, meeting your eyes and nodding once. Then he paused. 

"You good, man?" he asked Shane. 

Oh holy fuckballs, you thought to yourself as you bit your lip and watched anxiously. Rick knew about Lori and Shane. But Shane wasn't the one who told him. 

"I'm good. Lori's having a baby, man. Congratulations," Shane managed, and you winced at the fakeness of it. Rick didn't say a word, just walked away. 

"Officer..." you whispered as Shane didn't move. "Damn it. Shane? Do not do anything stupid right now, do you hear me?" You grabbed his arm and he shoved you away, looking at you with wide eyes. 

"Lori's pregnant," he said harshly. 

"Yeah," you answered steadily. 

"That baby's mine." 

"Possibly," you said slowly. "I mean, it depends on how long... She and Rick have gotten some alone time in since we arrived." 

"You only been here two weeks. No way she could- no way she could know already if it wasn't mine." 

You stopped to do that math in your head, and damn it, he was right. "You need to talk to them. Both of them. Calmly, Shane." 

"Yeah. Yeah. I gotta- I gotta go talk to Lori," he said starting to turn. 

"Hey, Walsh," you caught his arm as he started to go, and he looked at you blankly while rubbing a hand over his head. "Just- come here, damn it," you said with a sigh. 

You pulled him into a hard hug, and he held on for a long time before letting go and walking away from you. 

 

 

You walked through the woods, heading toward where you figured Daryl would be camped out. It was where he usually went to stage hunts or when he just needed to run away from Will for awhile. If he wasn't at home or school, you could always find him down here by the river, with his tent and his fire pit and his crossbow. 

"Yo, Dixon," you called, ducking under a tree branch and coming into the clearing by the riverbed. "You out here?" 

"Hey, YN," he called, voice sounding odd. "Whatcha doin' here?" 

You laughed. "What are you talking about, Dar- oh. Oh!" You froze like a deer in the headlights when you saw the girl sitting in Daryl's lap. She smirked at you with her fingers in his hair, and he was looking dazed and annoyed at the interruption.

"Holy fuck," you whispered, wide eyed as you started to back away. "Ah, sorry. Sorry, Melissa. I'll, ah, just go home now." 

You turned and ran while Daryl called your name, not wanting either of them to see that it bothered you. It wasn't just Daryl with another girl when you'd had a massive crush on him for the past year. You hadn't said anything to him about it, so why the hell would you be mad at him for making out with some girl? 

It was that it was that girl. In that place. Why the fuck did he have Melissa Anne Everett in his lap out in the woods? At his- and frankly, your- safe spot. She was the bitch who had been making life hell for you and him for years. She's suddenly stopped her reign of terror two months before, to your eternal confusion. It had lead to some speculation on your part over whether she'd gotten a lobotomy over the summer or something. 

No, apparently she'd just started sucking face with Daryl and he'd neglected to mention it to you. Why hadn't he told you? 

You ducked into your trailer, passed your stoned out foster mom and flipped off one of your foster brothers without saying a word, and headed to your room. You flopped down on your back on your bed, grabbed your battered Walkman, and popped in Guns'n'Roses. Axl Rose could always make you feel better. 

You straight up screamed when you felt a hand on your shoulder, the scream cut off by another hand slapping over your mouth. 

"Jesus, girl, shut the fuck up!" Daryl snapped, as you scrambled away from him with your heart pounding. You yanked the headphones off your ears and stared at him. 

"What the damn hell!"

"You didn't answer when I called ya name like six times, YN. What the hell yourself?" he fired back, glaring. 

"I had headphones on! Jesus, Dixon. Can't a girl have some peace? Where's your bitch?" you said, irritated and hurt.

"Shit, girl, tell me how ya really feel," he snapped. "Come on, let's go back to my room before somebody hears us. Don't wanna make trouble for ya, gettin' caught in here." 

He climbed out your window without saying anything else, and you thought about just putting your headphones back on and laying back down. And maybe closing your widow while you were at it. 

But it was Daryl, and even as you wanted to stay, your feet were already going. You slid through his window and found him coming back into his room with two beer cans. He tossed you one and flopped onto his bed. 

"Will ain't here, so if ya wanna yell, it's all good." 

"Why would I want to yell?" you asked sharply. "You can do whatever you want with your face, Dixon." 

He snorted and cracked open his beer. "I know. Ya hate her, though." 

"Of course I do!" you exploded, dropping the beer down onto his desk with a thud. "She's a bitch who's made our lives shit for years! Have you forgotten the sheer number of rumors she's started about us- you, me, Merle, what we do out there in the woods? You broke some asshole's nose and got suspended for two weeks after one of her rumors got around to you. I thought you hated her too!" 

He shrugged. "Yeah, I hated her. Then I got stuck with her as science partner while you had the flu. Turns out she's actually kinda nice. Her parents split up a few years ago and she started takin' it out on everyone around her. Not like you'n'me cain't relate to that, right?" 

You stared at him. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" 

He drained his beer and stood up, looking angry now for the first time. "Naw. I like her, 'kay?" 

"Of course you do. She's got tits and puts out," you snapped, and he glared. 

"Watch your mouth, sunshine," he snarled at you. You laughed harshly. 

"I did. Wanted to say something else." 

"Look, ya can hate her all ya want, YN. Just cause nobody's fuckin' you don't mean I cain't have someone," he snapped, and you stared at him for a minute in silence.

"You're right," you said with a slow nod. "You're absolutely right. You can have whoever you want. I'll see you in school tomorrow, Daryl." You ducked through his window and ran out into the woods, and he didn't follow you.

The next morning, you left early for school so you wouldn't run into him. You were slouched in your seat, headphones on, when he came in the room. You blithely ignored his glances at you and attempts at conversation by closing your eyes and turning up the volume on Quiet Riot in your ears.

Finally, he cornered you during a free period in the library. You were in a back corner, staring out the window on the floor and hiding from the librarian instead of doing homework. You were seriously thinking about heading out to the woods and dipping into your remaining stash from Merle's visit three weeks before. Suddenly, Daryl was in front of you, scowling, and this time he grabbed the Walkman from beside you and turning it off before you could say anything. 

"We gonna talk or what?" he snapped, glaring at you. You shrugged, stone faced. 

"Fine. I'm sorry, 'kay? Didn't mean to be an asshole, but I was," he muttered. 

You stared at him for a long moment, considering what was bugging you most. "Why her, Dixon?" you asked. "I mean, it's your choice and all, but seriously? Her?" 

He sighed and shrugged, dropping down to the floor. "She- she's hot," he said finally, and you cracked up despite yourself. 

"Jesus, Daryl," you said when you got the giggles under control. "That's all?" 

"Naw," he said, shrugging again but grinning at you. "But honestly? Mainly. Just nice to be wanted, is all. Ain't like I got any friends but you and Merle, and he's gone. Look, I know she's just usin' me. She's gonna get bored real soon. Already is 'cause I ain't gonna tap that. Don't want the clap like Merle."

You laughed again and he flashed you that smile, running his hand through his hair and leaving it sticking up everywhere. 

"Anyway. I know she don't really give a shit about me. I don't give a fuck about her neither. That's why I didn't tell ya. It's just- it's just nice to pretend I ain't shit on a stick to this town just cause of my last name." 

You nodded, getting that, and tipped your head to his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you sighed. "She is pretty hot. That bitch." 

"There's my girl," he muttered, and you grinned. 

 

 

"Hey, Dixon, you in there?" you called as you swung toward the tent you'd been sharing. 

He looked up at you and frowned. "The hell you want?" 

You rolled your eyes and flopped down beside him, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Don't be a dick. We're friends again, remember?" 

He sighed and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. "Yeah. Sorry, baby." 

"No worries. Don't be an asshole to Carol," you told him. 

"Ya know about that?" 

You snorted and pushed away from him, sitting cross legged beside him. "Yeah, I might have heard it all. Might have seen her after, too. You made her cry." 

"Damn it," he muttered. "Didn't mean to. Just wanna find that girl." 

"So do I," you told him seriously. "But Daryl, I also want you to be prepared for if we don't. It's so important to you; I just don't want to see you get hurt." 

He sighed. "I'm gonna find her." 

You studied him for a minute later before leaning forward and kissing his cheek. "Okay. Find Carol. Apologize. Don't fuck up your stitches." 

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, smiling faintly at you as you slid out of the tent, his hand lingering on you until you were too far away for him to touch. 

 

 

You were under the hood of the Greene's Silverado, more for lack of anything better to do than any other reason. 

"What's going on?" T Dog's voice came. You'd been listening to Carl play chess with Beth and Glenn and Maggie flirt adorably, just generally tinkering around and waiting to see which way the wind would blow. 

"Where's Rick?" Glenn asked, and you looked up to see Andrea shaking her head. 

"Went off with Hershel. We were supposed to leave a couple hours ago," she said, looking at Maggie. 

"Yeah you were. What the hell?" Daryl and Carol came up from the other side, Carol offering you a smile and Daryl not glancing your way. "Damn it! Isn't anybody taking this seriously?" 

"Settle down, Dixon. Rick is," you put in, and he looked at you. 

"Then where is he? We got us a damn trail." He turned and tipped his head to the side. "Oh, here we go." 

You glanced over and Shane was walking up with the bag of guns, looking ready to explode. "Officer Walsh, what are you doing?" you asked, eyeing him.

"What's all this?" Daryl echoed as Shane handed him a rifle and then lobbed your pistols at you. 

You snatched them out of the air and gave him a hard look. 

"You with me, Nameless?" he asked harshly. "Time to grow up." 

"Shane, seriously, where's your head right now? This is not the best choice you've ever made," you told him bluntly, putting a hand on his arm. You heard Andrea scoff behind you and shot your middle finger up at her. Bitch had been downright rude toward you since she'd slept with Shane, and you wondered just how attached she was there. She apparently didn't realize you didn't give a shit who he slept with. 

"It's the only choice we got. Look it was one thing sitting around picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe. Now we know it ain't," Shane yelled, handing guns to Andrea and T Dog and Glenn. Glenn and T Dog took them reluctantly, but Andrea checked hers and loaded one in the chamber without even pausing. 

"Can you shoot?" Shane asked Maggie, another gun in his hands as he looked at her. 

"Can you stop?" she shot back. "You do this, you hand out these guns, my dad will make you leave tonight." 

"We have to stay, Shane," Carl said, sounding worried, and Lori chose that moment to join the party. 

"What is this? Shane, what are you doing?" 

You rolled your eyes, hard, as Shane glared at her. Something had clearly happened there, since your last attempt at keeping Shane's shit together. 

"We ain't going anywhere, ok? Hershel's just going to have to understand. Now we need to find Sophia, am I right?" he asked, handing Carl a gun. 

"For fuck's sake, Walsh!" you exploded, tossing your hands in the air. "No matter how much you wish it otherwise, that is not your fucking kid!" 

"Shut up, Nameless! You take this, and you keep your mother safe. You do whatever you have to," Shane said to Carl. You slapped a hand on Daryl's arm to keep him from heading toward Shane when he snapped at you. Lori got between Shane and Carl and started yelling as your attention was drawn by movement near the barn. 

"What the hell?" you said, catching sight of Rick, Hershel, and Jimmy leading walkers on poles out of the woods. You had taken two steps closer and pulled one of your guns again before you realized what you'd done.

Shane was at your side, and you looked at him grimly when he scoffed. 

"You with me now, girl?" he asked.


	30. Living Dead Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> major character death (cannon)  
> past drug and alcohol use  
> past PTSD symptoms  
> references to past experiences in war  
> references to past child death

"What is this? What the hell is this?" Shane was screaming as he ran. The rest followed, you at his back and drawn. For once, you completely agreed with Shane. 

What the hell is this indeed? 

"Shane, back off!" Rick yelled, trying to get at Shane and keep him back while keeping control of his zombie-on-a-leash. 

"Why do your people have guns?" the old man yelled, looking way more concerned about that than about what the fuck he was doing. 

"You see what they're holding on to?" Shane roared, in full dramatics mode. 

"I see who I'm holding on to," Hershel shot back, and that just spurred him on. Shane was shouting a speech, but he was weaving in and out and around the walkers and muddying up your shot. 

"Damn it, Shane, stop the theatrics!" you yelled over him when he walked right in front of your gun for the fourth time. "I can't cover Rick if you're standing right in my goddamn line of fie!" 

"Do not take the Lord's name in vain, young lady!" Hershel glared at you, and you sighed. 

"Sir? Respectfully, fuck off, man. You've got bigger concerns than my mouth. You've got a barn full of something dangerous on your property and didn't bother to tell us. We've agreed to everything you've asked, just desperate for safe harbor, and you want to hamstring us. And now that's one of my people at risk right there next to you, a man too concerned with trying to do the good thing to watch his own ass," you said grimly.

Rick shot you a glare. "YN, I know what I'm-" 

"Hey, Hershel, let me ask you something," Shane said, and you adjusted your stance to cover him as well as he reached behind him and pulled a gun. "Could a living, breathing person, could they walk away from this?" He fired three times. 

"Shane, stop it!" Everyone was yelling, and you ground your teeth together and kept your gun on the walker Rick was holding at bay. You noticed Daryl beside you, shotgun Shane had given him trained on the one Hershel had. Hershel was falling apart and Rick was screaming, chaos descending as Shane lost his damn mind. No one had control of this situation, you realized, and that meant everyone was in danger. A glance at your gathered people showed shocked faces and Lori wrapped around Carl as he stared.

Son of a bitch, you thought grimly. Rick needed to make a move here, and fast.

"That's three rounds in the chest!" Shane roared. "Someone who's alive, could they just take that? Why is it still coming?" 

He popped off two more before you realized Rick wasn't going to handle this. You made the snap decision- your best kind, really- that you'd put a stop to it yourself before this asshole got someone hurt or did something he couldn't come back from. You tucked your gun away and tackled Shane in a sudden blur of movement that had Daryl jumping a little at your side. You wrestled the gun from Shane's hands through the sheer element of surprise and the amount of practice you'd had disarming distracted people. Honestly, though, you'd expected better from a trained deputy. 

"Sorry, Walsh," you grunted, scrambling back with an oath when he swung and clocked you on the jaw. "Can't let you keep wasting ammo and making things worse, man." 

"YN! Shane! Damn it!" Rick was screaming, but you were focused on Shane. 

He started to get to his feet, and you tossed his gun in Daryl's general direction. You ducked Shane's swinging fist after you did, and shoved him back to the ground with another head-first tackle. Once he was down, you drove your elbow straight into his solar plexus, and he grunted as the air rushed out of him. You used that to get your forearm across his throat, sitting on his chest and pinning his arms against his sides with your knees. 

"Are you done, Shane? Come on, asshole, don't make me knock you out," you snapped, glaring down into his eyes. He was struggling, looking like he was ready to kill you, and you added some more pressure to his throat. "Walsh? Listen the fuck up for a minute. I'm on your side, ok? But however aware we are that that's just a hungry, ravening monster, that is someone Hershel fucking knows. You're torturing some woman he knows in front of him and you're wasting goddamn ammo to do it, so just fucking stop." 

He bucked, trying to throw you, and you laughed when it didn't do anything. "Good try, asshole. Forget I do this shit all the time? Stronger than I fucking look." You leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Get a hold of yourself, idiot. Lori and Carl are right the fuck there. You want to scare the shit out of them or wing one of them when the damn walker moves?" 

That did it. Shane finally stopped fighting and tapped the ground twice even while he glared at you. You held his eyes a minute longer, then released his throat. 

"I let you up, are you going to swing at me?" you asked him calmly. 

He scoffed and shook his head. "Naw. I don't go for sucker shots." 

You laughed as you rose and held out a hand to pull him up. When you were both on your feet, you registered how quiet it was behind you, the only voices you could hear snarls and moans from the barn as the walkers through themselves against the barn doors trying to get to you. A look around showed Hershel on his knees, the zombie Shane'd been shooting at down on the ground with a bullet through the head. 

"Well, fuck," you whispered, looking at Rick's furious face. 

Daryl still had his gun on the walker Rick held, though he glanced away from it to meet your eyes briefly. You nodded at him to show you weren't hurt, and he went back to covering Rick. 

"Enough risking our lives for a little girl who's gone," Shane said softly. You rolled your eyes and turned to him, ready to deck him again if you needed to, but he kept talking. "Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us. Rick, man, it ain't like it was before." 

Shane's tone was pleading; asking Rick for understanding for maybe the first time since you'd come to the farm. Rick was staring at him, jaw tight and eyes filled with rage. You got the feeling the only thing keeping him from getting into a fistfight with Shane himself was the walker he was still keeping at arm's length. The rattling from the barn behind you was getting louder, the chains clanking against the doors as the dead tried their best to get out and make you join them.

"Shane! You need to shut up, now," Rick yelled, and Shane shook his head. 

"No, Rick, not this damn time. We need to-" 

"YN!" Carl's panicked voice cut through the argument, and you glanced at his pale face and outstretched finger and whirled. 

"Shit!" you yelled. Shane had turned at the same time you did, and now he reached over and pulled one of your guns from the thigh holster closest to him as you pulled the other. 

"Daryl?" Your tone was a question, and a shot from behind you was all the answer you needed. You planted your feet and took aim as you heard him speak. 

"Ain't got no choice now, Rick," Daryl said. "Sorry, man." 

The doors had broken open and the first of the zombies were pushing through, dead skin snaring on jagged pieces of wood and the rusty iron chains. You, Daryl, and Shane stood in front of the rest of the group, Rick's voice yelling at Hershel and at the others as the three of you started taking down the first walkers to squeeze their way through. You dropped them with practiced head shots, and suddenly there were more people firing. Walkers started taking hits to the shoulder or the body before whoever was shooting nailed the head, so the less masterful marksmen had joined the defense.

You almost wished they hadn't, since they were mainly just wasting ammo when the three of you could have handled it with less.

Whatever, the last of the walkers went down even as your gun clicked the end of your magazine. You were breathing hard as you shoved it back into your holster and turned around to see how bad the damage was going to be with Hershel and his people. 

Rick looked stricken, like the world had ended again. Lori was wrapped around Carl, covering him with her own body even though no one had been shooting that way. Carol and Dale stood there, shocked, Carol's hands over her mouth. Maggie was crouched behind her father, crying with her arms around him, and Patricia and Beth were holding onto each other. 

"Rick," you said quietly. His furious eyes turned to you, and you met them steadily. "We didn't have a choice there, Rick." 

He didn't speak, just strode toward Shane. Shane held your second gun out to you and you took it, shoving it back into place as Shane waited for Rick. The deputy reached him, staring at him nose to nose for a long moment. 

"YN," Daryl snapped beside you, his shotgun coming back up. You spun and your heart dropped to your feet as Sophia stumbled out of the barn. 

 

 

"Hey, girlie. I ever tell ya about the time I got three of them dancers over at Deviant to come home with me? At the same damn time?" Merle was staggering, leaning against you as you walked him into your building. One of your neighbors was ducking out and held the door for you, not looking at you or the high as a kite asshole leaning on your arm. 

It was probably a good thing you lived in one of the more run-down parts of town. Anywhere decent would have kicked your ass out the first time you'd had to bring a belligerent Merle back here and he'd been screaming at you in the hallway for confiscating his stash.

"Yeah, you've told me that one a few times. Not really the kind of story I want to hear about my older brother, asshole," you told Merle absently as you negotiated the lobby to the elevator. You got him to lean against the wall while the thing headed up to the third floor, giving you a bit of a breather. You rubbed the shoulder you'd dislocated earlier that week, trying to work out the pain in it that had been coming whenever you did too much with that side. The Sarge hadn't wanted to call you in tonight because of it, but Merle had been getting ready to start a fight in the Nameless Crow itself and Daryl hadn't been picking up. 

"Aww, c'mmon, girlie. Don't be a party pooper," Merle teased, leaning into you and kissing your cheek loudly. You grunted as his weight hit your shoulder, bracing yourself to keep you both upright. 

"Ha. Sorry, dude, I just don't really want to hear about your sexual exploits tonight," you said, shifting so you could walk with him as the doors dinged open. 

"Why the hell not, girlie? I have so many good'ns to tell!" 

"Oh, you know. No reason at all. Just would have been mine and Daryl's anniversary, but no big deal," you muttered as you unlocked your door one handed with the ease of long practice. 

"Aww, hell, baby girl," Merle whispered. "Forgot ya hooked up the night I shipped out." He tried to pull you into a clumsy embrace, and you laughed as he staggered the two of you through the door instead. 

"Stop that, dick! I'm fine." 

"Ya sure?" His eyes stared anxiously into yours, pupils so wide he practically had no iris. 

"I'm sure. You want a shower or to sleep it off?" 

Merle's face brightened up unexpectedly and he dropped onto your couch. "Come sit with me, girlie. Let's watch us some tv. Somethin' with a lot of explosions, though. No chick flicks." He grinned up at you and made an obscene gesture. "Tits're fine, though," he said with what you suspected was supposed to be a wink. 

You couldn't help but laugh helplessly again. "Fine. Pick something, but don't make a mess. I'll get some Gatoraide and snacks. Try to soak up some of the booze you layered on top of whatever went up your nose tonight." 

When you came back in the room, Merle'd put in some movie about soldiers. You glanced at him uneasily, wondering if that was the best idea, all things considered. He grinned at you and stretched out long the couch with his head in your lap, balancing the bowl of popcorn on his chest. He talked through the whole damn movie, a steady stream of what it got wrong and what army life was really like and commentary on the lead female's body that made you want to hurl. You slapped a hand across his mouth at one point when he started to make an entirely too detailed suggestion of what the male lead should do when she slipped into his room that night. 

"You're such a dick when you're high, Merle," you told him with an eye roll and he laughed wildly and tossed popcorn at you. 

At almost the end of the movie, the soldiers rescued a kid right before the enemy bombed the house where the kid was hiding. The main character ran with the kid to safety, fighting off the bad guys at great personal risk. He saved the little girl, and he realized there was meaning behind all the death and destruction that was his job, his life. For the first time all night, Merle was quiet. 

"You ok down there? You finally fall asleep?" you teased, glancing at him. On screen, the soldier reunited the little girl with her sobbing and grateful mother while the music swelled to a crescendo. 

He had tears in his eyes, and he glared at the tv. "Ain't like that in real life." 

"What do you mean?" you asked, running your fingers over his face gently until he looked at you. He seemed so lost and broken all the sudden, nothing like the tough as nails asshole you knew. 

He sniffed. "Don't get to save the kid like that. Kid's in the battle zone, that kid's dead. That's the real'n ugly as shit truth. Cain't never save no kids. Turn this shit off, would ya?" he said harshly, staggering to his feet and heading for your bathroom. "I gotta piss, then Imma crash, girl." 

You hovered outside the bathroom door after you'd turned off the tv and made up the couch for him. He'd been in there for ten minutes, and you finally knocked. "Merle? Didn't pass out on the floor on me, did you?" 

You heard him retch and sighed. "I'm coming in, so you better be decent." 

"Go away, girlie," he called back, voice rough with tears and anger. 

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," you said dryly, opening the door. He was sitting, leaning against your wall opposite the toilet and staring at his hands. "When have you ever gotten me to leave when you need me? Come on, brother. Let's go to bed," you told him gently. 

"Don't wanna-" Merle started to say, but stopped and shook his head without finishing the sentence. 

"Sleep in my room tonight?" you offered, crouching and touching a hand to his cheek. He leaned into your touch and finally nodded. 

"Aight, girl." 

He slept finally, curled around you and holding onto you like you were a teddy bear. You rubbed his back long after he crashed, eyes open and staring at the ceiling in the dark. 

 

 

Daryl caught Carol as she tried to run past him to her daughter. You had tears on your cheeks, but you pulled one of your guns at the same time Rick pulled his. 

"Rick, I can do it," you whispered, grabbing his hand. He turned wide, blank eyes on you, blinking past the tears in his. "I'll do it, Rick," you repeated, and stepped past him. You took a deep breath and thought about bodies in your van, Shane's wild eyes in the dark, Merle's laugh when he was high. Yeah, you could do it.

She was moving faster, picking her way through the others and toward you. "Carl, Carol, don't look," you called grimly. 

Then you put her down.


	31. Houses of the Holy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past drug abuse/alcoholism  
> mentions of past drug dealing  
> mentions of past sexual harassment

Shane took the gun from your shaking hand. 

"Hey. Hey, Nameless, it's over," he whispered, sliding the gun back in your holster and wrapping an arm around you. You let him pull you in, his hand to the back of your head pressing your face into his shoulder. "It's alright."

 

"YN? YN!" Daryl's voice was rough and angry as you came through the door. He crashed into you, pulling you against him before you were really inside. "You aight, baby?" he asked, cupping your face in his hands and staring into your eyes. 

You blinked at him and shrugged, kicking the door closed with your foot. "I- yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." 

"What the hell happened? I get a call down at the shop, says I need to get home fast 'cause shit went down and ya on ya way home. Wouldn't tell me nothin', said it was club shit and I's only gettin' the call 'cause they were worried about ya." He pulled the helmet and keys from your unresisting hands and tugged you toward the couch. 

You shook your head and leaned into his shoulder when he sat down beside you. "I was on a run," you said slowly. He was so warm, and you burrowed into him unconsciously. He shifted you on the couch so you were stretched out, tucked between him and the back cushions. His fingers started moving against your back, drawing patterns and shapes absently. 

"I was on a run. It- it didn't go-" 

"Ya aight?" he asked again harshly, half sitting up. "Ya hurt?" 

"No, no. I'm- I'm fine. It didn't go completely sideways, but it could have. It almost did. It was a deal with the Vatos. We got some product and were delivering it to them, in exchange for- well, I don't know. Above my pay level. It was a trap, though. They set us up with Atlanta PD. Luckily, we've got PD's radio codes. They called for the trap to spring and our boys started a fight with the Vatos. I was on lookout. Had a couple assholes run my way. They-" you broke off again, cuddling closer to Daryl. "They had me, fair and square. Were talking shit, you know? One of them said they'd seen me at Delirium last time I was on stage there. I doubt he had, since there's no way anyone'd let Vatos bitches in when one of ours was working. Still." 

"They touch ya?" Daryl asked, voice hard. 

You snorted. "You think they could? No. They were talking smack is all, and then Atlanta PD came our way. Everyone scattered. I got away clean." 

His arms tightened around you. "Ya done with deliveries now?" he asked, and you snorted. 

"No. Dixon, it was just a close call. I'll be fine." 

He sighed. "Don't like ya in this shit, baby." 

"I know. This is what I do, though," you said seriously, tilting your head back to look at him. "You love me anyway?" 

He huffed and threaded his fingers into your hair. "Love ya because of it, ya idiot. Too damn tough for your own good." 

You smiled. "Don't you forget it. Here, hold me awhile, ok?" you demanded, cuddling in even closer to him. Your cheek was pressed to his chest and you smiled as you felt the rumble of his laugh. 

"I can do that," he whispered, curling around you and holding on tight. 

 

 

The argument started after Beth got grabbed by one of the walkers. Your people rushed in to save her, even Daryl with his damn stitches probably popped already from hitting the deck with Carol. You stood there, arms wrapped around yourself, as Shane went off on Hershel and Maggie and Rick went off on Shane. 

Daryl came over to you, hand pressed over the wound in his side, and studied you intently. 

"Hey. Ya a'ight?" he asked, and you shrugged. 

"I just killed a walker I knew," you said softly. "Guess I need to take a shot now." 

"What the hell ya talkin' about?" he asked, fingers reaching under your chin to tilt your head up so he could see your eyes better. 

You shook your head, pressing your lips together. You rolled your shoulders, aware of the eyes on you from the others, and painted your usual smirk onto your lips. "Nothing, Dixon. I'm all good. Can you all handle making sure these guys are really down? Daryl's stitches need attention," you called to T Dog and Andrea. 

"Yeah. Yeah, we got this," T answered slowly, eyeing you like you were a bomb armed and at the end of the countdown but not exploding for some reason. 

"Cool. Come on, Daryl." You walked away, back straight, until you got to your tent.

 

 

"Ya ain't alright," Daryl's tone was flat behind you as you stood and stared blankly at the tent wall. You saw Sophia's face, emaciated and decaying, snarling as she came at you in slow motion. You saw Merle's angry eyes as he told you the soldier never got to save the kid. Shane saying seventy-two hours, and then you were looking for a body. 

"No," you agreed. "I'm not all right." 

"Talk to me, baby," Daryl whispered, touching your shoulder and turning you to face him. 

"She was a kid. A little girl, Daryl. Just a little girl, and I just shot her in the head." You pressed your fingers to your lips, trying to hold back a sob, but he grabbed your hands in his. You could feel the way they shook, and he pulled you into his arms. 

"Hey, hey. No. It wasn't a little girl anymore, baby. It wasn't." He spoke directly into your ear, voice soothing, and drew shapes and patterns on your back with his fingers. "She weren't Sophia anymore. Just another damn walker." 

"No. No, it was a little damn girl. A little lost girl I'd already given up on days ago. God, if I'd- if I'd been out there with you more-" 

"Don't," he said sharply, pulling back to look at you. "Don't, girl. Don't take that on." 

"Jesus fucking Christ," you whispered, eyes filling again. "I'm so sorry, Daryl." 

"Ain't got nothin' to apologize to me for, baby," he said seriously. "C'mon now, get yourself together. Thought ya did what needed to be done, no matter what." 

"Asshole," you snapped, drawing back like he'd slapped you. 

He grinned. "There ya are." 

Your eyes narrowed. "Dick." 

"Bitch," he said gently, cupping your cheek with his hand and rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. "Keep insultin' me if ya want. Color's comin' back." 

Your lips twitched despite yourself. "You're such a jerk, Dixon. Know how to push my buttons, don't you?" 

"Yeah," he agreed easily. "Know every damn one of 'em by heart." 

You shook your head with a helpless laugh, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. You weren't ok, not yet. But you would be. "Thanks. Come on, let's have a look at those stitches." 

"I'm fine," he said with a scowl. You stood straight and looked down at his side deliberately, then back into his face with raised eyebrows. 

"Really? Then why's there blood on your shirt right over where you impaled yourself on your own arrow?" 

He sighed and snarled something, but you pointed imperiously at his sleeping bag on the ground. 

"Lose the shirt and lay down, Daryl. I'll take care of it. Won't be the first time." 

 

 

You rejoined the others while they were digging graves. Andrea, Shane, T Dog, and Jimmy were digging, Lori standing nearby with wide eyes. You snatched up a shovel and dropped into the grave beside Jimmy, adding your back. 

"You don't need to be here, Nameless," Shane called. You looked up to find him regarding you steadily, while Andrea shot annoyed looks between him and you, again. God, she was a bitch sometimes. 

You offered Shane a twisted smile. "Yes, I do." 

"No, you really don't. That was a hard thing you did back there. Go get some rest," he insisted, and you dumped a shovelful of dirt and laughed. There was no humor in it, and the kid beside you eyed you warily. 

"Walsh? I'm fine. This is hardly the first grave I've dug; and it's not even the most difficult one. So just-" you gestured vaguely. "If you want to help, get your bullshit under control, man. Merle when he was high was easier to keep a lid on than you." 

He looked insulted, but went back to shoveling in silence, and so did the rest of you. When you were done, Lori went to get the others for the funerals. 

Carol didn't bother to come, and you saw Daryl's worried eyes turn toward the trailer when she stepped out. She looked away from the group gathered around the graves and walked the other way. 

You reached for Daryl's arm and he looked at you. You jerked your head in her direction and he nodded gratefully before taking off. 

 

 

"Hello?" you said, annoyed, jamming the phone between your ear and your shoulder. You were half under Merle's Triumph and covered in grease, angrily trying to fix the damage he'd done by wrecking out the day before. You'd left him on your couch, still passed out and sleeping it off, with a sticky note on his forehead that said 'hit the button on the coffeepot, drink the water, take the Advil, call the doc when you wake up, you asshole'. 

Not the nicest note you'd ever left him, but having him call you at four am laughing his ass off while he told you he crashed was not your idea of a good time. You'd about had a heart attack until you saw him and realized ninety percent of the damage- to both Merle and bike- was superficial.

"Where the hell's my brother and why do I have six missed calls from him?" 

You dropped the wrench in your hand with a clang and closed your eyes. "Daryl. Hello and good morning to you too," you said flatly. 

He paused on the other end. "Yeah, hey. Merle?" 

"On my couch as of three hours ago. You have missed calls because he was driving fucking high as a kite and wrecked early this morning. He's fine, scrapes and bruises from what I could tell. Left a note telling him to call the doctor," you answered, trying not to let how much hearing his voice hurt show. 

"Shit," Daryl spat and sighed. "Mind if I head to your place and get him? I'll make sure he actually goes and gets checked out. His bike need a tow?" 

"Already been handled. I'm working on it now. Daryl, what are we going to do about him? It's been six months since he got back, and I swear he's only getting worse." 

There was another pause. "Yeah, I know. He won't go see anyone and he won't talk to me about shit neither. Don't know what to do except ride it out." 

"Did it ever end with Will?" you snapped, annoyed. Merle needed help, not for you to sit around and wait for him to put himself in an early grave through overdose or sheer stupidity of getting on a bike while on shit. 

"Naw. He ain't Will, though. I'll get him from ya place and take him to the doc. He'll call ya later." Daryl hung up before you could respond to the anger in his tone, and you let the phone fall from your shoulder with a sigh. Then you yelled 'fuck' as loudly as you possibly could and kicked at the radio at your feet, turning it up from loud to pounding, T.N.T. blasting out into the empty bays of the garage.


	32. I Drink Alone, Yeah, With Nobody Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> alcoholism relapse  
> drinking  
> mentions of past child abuse

Hershel was nowhere to be found, and Beth was in rough shape. Honestly, you didn't understand how any of that was your business, but Shane had grabbed your elbow and brought you along when Glenn came running for him and Rick. Now you were looking over Hershel's bedroom while Maggie glared all around and Rick and Shane pretended poorly that they weren't pissed at each other. You started to get the feeling that you'd been brought along solely to act as mediator between the two of them, and Lori's look when Shane tossed you Hershel's flask said the same thing. 

"Found an old friend, huh?" you muttered, handing it on to Rick. 

"That belonged to my grandfather. Gave it to dad when he died," Maggie said, taking it from Rick. 

"I didn't take Hershel for a drinker," Rick said mildly. 

"No, he gave it up on the day I was born," she answered, looking confused. "He didn't even allow liquor in the house." 

That was a pity, you found yourself thinking absently. You could use a drink. 

Rick paused, glanced at you like he could hear your thoughts, and then started around the bed toward the door. "What's the bar in town?" he asked. 

"Carriage Bar," Maggie responded. "He practically lived there in his drinking days."

Your laugh didn't have any humor in it. "Yeah, I know what's that's like. Rick, that's where he'll be." 

Maggie glared at you like she wanted to deny it. You softened your expression. "I've got some experience with addicts, Maggie. They can't help themselves. It's no disrespect to your father; he's a good man." 

She looked away and sniffed as Glenn spoke up. "I've seen the place. I'll take Rick." 

"I'm going to," you said grimly. Rick eyed you and you raised your eyebrow. "I cover your ass, Rick. You can yell at me on the way there if you need to. There's walkers out there and the man's probably drinking. Just let me go with you." 

"I'll get the truck," Rick said, and both Maggie and Lori immediately began objecting. You sighed. 

"How about I'll get the truck, and you guys debate? Maggie, you want your dad back, we need Glenn. Lori, you want that doctor back? We need Rick. Both of you need me to cover your shit. Let's fucking go." You walked off before they could respond. 

 

 

You leaned in the open door of the truck and watched while Rick and Lori hissed at each other and Glenn and Maggie held hands and kissed a few times. Shane stalked over and looked at you. 

"What?" you snapped. 

"Did good, Nameless. Even takin' me down," he answered with a smirk. 

You flipped him off and looked away from him. "Needed to be taken down. We wouldn't be doing this shit if you hadn't gone off the damn deep end and started shooting that walker." 

He crossed his arms and looked away. "Yeah, you're right." 

"I know I'm right, jackass." 

"What's crawled up your ass, girl?" he snapped at you, and you looked at him again. 

"Oh, I don't know. Been kind of a shit day, and now I've got to go fish an addict from a bar. You aren't really my favorite person in the world right now, Officer."   
Rick and Glenn headed toward you, finally, and you looked as Shane as you ducked into the driver's seat. "Tell Dixon I'll be back, and not to get his panties in a twist because I left. Make sure he doesn't fucking pop those stitches again, and for the love of God, Shane- do not do anything else stupid, please?" 

You slammed the door and put the truck in gear, Glenn sliding in to sit in the middle nervously. 

"I'm sorry, shouldn't- shouldn't I drive?" he asked, and you hit the gas as Rick closed his door. 

"Nope." 

 

 

"Thank you, YN," Rick said after you left the farm. 

"For what?" you said sharply.

"Sophia." 

You laughed humorlessly. "Are you really thanking me for shooting a little girl in the head?" 

"You thanked me for it once," he replied, and reached around Glenn to touch your hand on the wheel. "It wasn't easy for you then, I know it wasn't easy for you now. Thank you." 

You sighed. "You knew her. I knew her. It's different when you know them." 

"Yeah," Rick agreed. "It is." 

"Didn't want that on your conscience." 

He glanced at you. "So you put it on yours?" 

"I'm a bad person, Rick. What's one more thing?" 

"No. No you're not," he disagreed softly. You snorted, but didn't say anything else.

 

 

"Maggie said she loves me," Glenn declared into the silence a little bit later. 

Your eyes shot from the road to the kid, and Rick was doing the same thing. 

"She doesn't mean it," Glenn continued. "She's upset. Or confused. She's probably feeling, like-" 

"I think she's smart enough to know what's she's feeling," Rick said mildly, his lips twitching as you caught his eye. 

"No. No," Glenn denied, shaking his head. "She wants to be in love, so she's- she needs something to- to like, to hold onto." 

"Glenn," you cut him off, laughing. "It's pretty obvious to everyone she loves you. And not just because you're one of the last men standing." 

Rick laughed as Glenn muttered something and shook his head. 

"Come on, kid, what's the problem?" you asked. "Do you know how hard it is to find love, real love?" 

"Like you and Daryl?" he asked, and you felt your face shut down. 

"Daryl and I aren't in love anymore." 

"Really? You should remind yourselves of that when you're together," Rick muttered, and you flipped him off. 

"Come on, Deputy, we aren't talking about me here. We're talking about our mysterious voice from the radio," you teased, changing the subject deliberately. 

Glenn snorted and fidgeted. "I didn't say it back."

Your eyebrows shot up and Rick's did too. 

"I've never had a woman say that to me before! Except my mom, of course, and my sisters. But with Maggie, it's different," Glenn protested. "We barely know each other. What- what does she really know about me? Nothing. We're practically strangers. I just stood there like a jerk." 

You shook your head at him. "Glenn, Glenn," you muttered, and he frowned out the window. 

"This is a good thing, man. Enjoy it," Rick said. "When we get back, return the favor. It's not like she's going anywhere."

"What about you? You're a girl. What do you guys want?" Glenn asked you anxiously, and you burst out laughing again. 

"Oh my God, Glenn. I am so not the one to ask. Do I look seem like a typical girl? I'm in a gang!" you asked him, gesturing vaguely at yourself. 

"Well- ok, to that's fair. But still. You've liked guys. You've been in love before. You should know this crap." 

You snorted. "Glenn, I've had one boyfriend in my life. Many one night stands, up to three nights max, but one boyfriend. I can give you sex advice, or teach you to dance in stripper heels, or fix your car, or teach you to identify quality drugs without having to use them, but I cannot help you with your love life, man." 

He groaned. 

"Stripper heels?" Rick muttered, and you winked at him. 

"How many times I gotta tell you, Deputy? I am not a nice girl." 

 

 

You parked the truck and left the keys in the ignition. You burst through the doors with Rick at your side, Glenn watching the street. 

There Hershel was, lone man sitting at the bar with his back to the door. You eyed the bottles behind the bar contemplatively once you were sure the place was clear. 

"Hershel?" Rick called. 

"Who's with you?" he asked. 

"Glenn. YN." 

"Maggie sent him?" 

"He volunteered. He's good like that," Rick said with a smile for Glenn. "YN did too." 

"Note he's not saying I'm good," you put in, sheathing your gun and using one of the bar stools to boot yourself up onto the bar itself. You dropped down behind it and started scanning. "See, I'm here to cover their asses and dealing with addicts is kind of my specialty." 

"Oh really? I thought your specialty was shooting people in the head," Hershel said, and you turned to him with raised eyebrows and a low whistle. 

"Nice one, old man," you told him, pulling a bottle of Jim Beam from the wall and heading his way. You grabbed a dusty glass from behind the counter, blew the dust from it, and poured. You stood facing him as you sipped. "Yeah, I'm good at that too. Mind, I've only ever done so when the people were already dead. Glenn, cover the door would you?" you said with a nod his direction. 

Rick walked up while you drank again, leaning on the bar and watching Hershel warily. 

"How many have you had?" he asked Hershel. 

"Not enough," the old man answered. 

You grinned and poured another into your own glass. "Amen, brother," you told him, raising your glass in a toast and knocking it back in one swallow. 

"Not helping, YN," Rick muttered. "Come on, let's finish this at home. Beth collapsed, she's in some sort of state. Shock, I think. And I think you are too." 

"Maggie's with her?" Hershel asked, seeming as immune to Rick's intense-friendly stare as you were. 

"Yes, but she needs you." 

"What could I do?" the old man asked as he raised his glass and took another sip. You grabbed the bottle on the counter in front of him and glanced at it. 

"Shit, man. This is crap. If you're going to drink, might as well drink the good stuff," you told him, sliding the bottle he had away. "Not like we're paying for it." 

"She needs her mother. Or to mourn, like she should have done weeks ago. I robbed her of that," Hershel continued as if you hadn't spoken. Rick, however, shot you a look and snatched the Beam from your hand when you went to pour again. 

"You thought there was a cure," Rick told Hershel softly. "Can't blame yourself for holding out hope."

"Hope?" Hershel snorted and looked at him. "When I first saw you running across my field with your boy in your arms, I had little hope he would survive." 

"But he did," Rick said. 

"He did. Even though we lost Otis. Your man Shane made it back. This- rather abrasive young woman made it back. And we saved your boy." 

You laughed at 'rather abrasive young woman'. "Hey, Hershel? You're a pretty sarcastic shit when you've been drinking. I kind of like it. But we need the doctor now." 

"I'm not a doctor," he said angrily. 

You blinked at him and looked at Rick in confusion. "He's not a doctor?" 

"I'm a veterinarian." 

You laughed again and grabbed the bottle from Rick's hands, taking a long drink. "Oh, perfect. That's perfect. Lori's pregnant and our only source of medical care is a vet, not a doctor." 

"I was a fool, Rick," Hershel said, steadfastly ignoring your commentary. "And you people saw that. My daughters deserve better than that." 

You set the bottle down with a thunk. "Ok. That's it. I've heard enough. Listen to me, old man. What your daughters deserve? Is a father who gives a shit about them. You do. I don't like you much and you don't like me much, I think we can agree on that," you snarled, leaning toward him with your hands planted on the bar. 

"We can," he said slowly, meeting your eyes for the first time since you'd come in. 

"Good. Then there's a starting point. I didn't have parents, Mr. Greene. I didn't know my birth ones, and my foster parents? Well. My foster mom was always drunk or high and didn't give a shit, except when CPS was coming around. My foster dad? Oh, he was a piece of work. He liked me just a little too much, if you take my meaning. I lit out of there and moved to Atlanta with Daryl and Merle when I was sixteen- younger than your Beth is now. You're a good father, Hershel. They love you." 

You leaned over and grabbed the bottle he'd been drinking from. "So what's your plan, Hershel? Finish this bottle and then what? Drink yourself to death and leave your girls alone?" 

"Stop telling me how to care for my family! My farm!" Hershel yelled, standing up and leaning over the bar toward you. "You people are like a plague! I do the Christian thing, give you shelter- and you destroy it all!" 

"World was already in bad shape when we met," Rick snarled, and Hershel turned to him. 

"And you take no responsibility! You're supposed to be their leader!" 

"Well I'm here now, aren't I?" Rick fired back. 

"Yes. Yes, you are," Hershel agreed, quietly. 

Rick met your eyes over the old man's head as he picked up the bottle and drank directly from it. 

"Hershel, your girls need you now more than ever," you told him quietly. 

"When Shane shot Lou in the chest and she just kept coming, that's when I knew what an ass I'd been. That Annette had been dead long ago and I was feeding her rotten corpse. That's when I knew there was no hope. And when that little girl came out of the barn-" his voice got rough as he cried, and you clenched your jaw. 

"The look on your face- I knew you knew it too. And you-" he rounded toward you again. "You shot her like it was nothing. Dead eyes, like both you and Shane when you came back without Otis." 

You shook your head. "Not like it was nothing, Mr. Greene. It was everything." 

"You stood there and put a bullet in her brain! There is no hope!" Hershel yelled. "And you know it same as I do." 

Rick snapped. "I'm done cleaning up after you. You know what the truth is?" he sneered. "Nothing has changed. Death is death, it's always been there. From heart attack, cancer, a walker- what's the difference? Didn't think it was hopeless before, did you? And now there are people back at home trying to hand on. They need us, even if it's just to give them a reason to go on. Even if we don't believe it ourselves. You know what? This isn't about what we believe anymore. It's about them."

Hershel looked at him for a long moment, then picked his glass up and turned it over resolutely as he rose. You were grinning, because goddamn it, Deputy Do Good had done it again. 

And then, because this was the kind of day you were having, the door to the bar swung open and two assholes you'd never seen before walked it. 

"Son of a bitch. They're alive," one said. 

Fuck it. You grabbed the bottle of Jim Beam and took another long drink.


	33. Somebody Got Murdered; Somebody's Dead Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> past bar brawl  
> brief derogatory language toward women (cannon)

"Hey, asshole, why don't you pick on someone your own size?" you snapped at the heavyset man in jeans and a stained wifebeater shirt who was about to punch one of your prospects in the face for the second time. 

He looked over at you and sneered. 

Ok, you got that. You weren't exactly imposing at first glance, especially to someone inebriated. But it was a mistake, and the bartender- who knew you and yours- shook his head with a sigh. 

"Billy, there's a fifty in it for you if you don't call the cops," you yelled to him casually, and those nearby picked up their drinks and moved away from you and the asshole.

"You got it, babe," Billy called from behind the bar, turning around and facing the other end. "I didn't see nothin'." 

"Thanks, sugar. Hey, pour me and the kid here a shot for when we're done?" You added, smiling at the asshole as you walked a little closer. He let go of your prospect's shirt, and the kid glanced at you with a worried frown. You waved him away, focused on the wifebeater. 

"I don't wanna hurt you, little girl," the guy growled, and you batted your eyes at him with a smile. 

"Oh, that's so nice of you, honey," you said sweetly. Then you slammed your knee into his junk and followed it up with a punch to the face as he double over. "But what if I want to hurt you?"

 

 

You poured Dave and Tony a couple of drinks and slid them down the bar toward Rick. He met your eyes and you nodded slightly, braced for trouble. 

"Yo, sweetheart," Tony- the fat one in the hat- said, leaning on the bar. "Your boyfriend in some kind of gang or something?" 

You looked down your nose at him. "No, but I am," you shot back, and Dave laughed. 

"Careful, Tony. She looks like she bites," he said with a smirk. 

"Hell, you know I don't mind that," Tony said with a wink in your direction. You lifted your middle finger lazily and took another pull from the bottle of Jim Beam. 

"We met on I-95 coming out of Philly. What a shitshow that was," Dave said, taking the shot you'd poured and lifting it in Rick's direction. "Cheers." 

"I'm Glenn. It's nice to meet some new people," the kid said, and you rolled your eyes mentally. Kid was too damn nice for his own good, much like the deputy. 

"Rick Grimes," Rick added. 

"How about you, pal? Have one?" Dave asked Hershel. 

"Hershel. I just quit," Hershel refused. 

"Got a unique sense of timing, my friend. You got a name, sweetheart?" he asked you, and you raised an eyebrow at him. 

"It isn't sweetheart, that's for sure," you told him with a smirk. "Call me Nameless." 

"What the hell kinda name is that?" Tony asked. 

"It isn't one," you snapped without looking at him. 

"It's her club's name, dumbass," Dave added. "Read the vest instead of just staring at her ass next time she turns around." 

"Good advice," you muttered, lifting the bottle to your lips again. "Gun, Rick," you added in the same tone as Dave leaned forward and put his glass down. 

He glanced at you in surprise and took the gun out. "Yeah, you like it? Good piece. Got it off a cop." 

"I'm a cop," Rick said flatly. 

"This one was already dead. A cop and gangster together? World really is a strange place," Dave commented with a smile your way. 

"I'm a biker, please," you muttered. "Gangsters are a bunch of pussies." 

"You fellas are a long way from Philadelphia," Rick changed the subject with another significant look at you. 

"Feels like we're a long way from anywhere," Tony said, laughing. 

"What drove you south?" you asked. 

"I can tell you it wasn't the weather. Must have dropped thirty pounds in sweat alone down here. How the hell you're in leather, I don't know," Dave said with a smile at you. 

"Dress for the slide, not for the ride," you said with a shrug, and Tony laughed. You shot him a quelling look, but he most certainly did not take the hint, instead leaning toward you. 

"First it was DC. Heard there might be some kind of refugee camp, but the roads were so bad, we never even got close. Decided to get off the highways, into the sticks, and keep hauling ass. Every group we came across had a new rumor about a way out of this thing," Dave continued. 

"One guy told us there was the Coast Guard, sitting in the Gulf, sending ferries to the islands," Tony added. 

"The latest was a rail yard in Montgomery running trains to the middle of the country- Kansas, Nebraska." 

"Nebraska?" you asked, incredulous. "What the fuck's in Nebraska?"

"Low population, lots of guns," Tony said with a grin at you. 

"That- almost makes sense," Glenn muttered. 

"Ever been to Nebraska, kid? There's a reason they call them flyover states. What about you guys?" Dave, who was clearly the spokesperson of the Dave and Tony Duo, asked.

"Fort Benning, eventually," Rick said, shooting another glance at you. 

"Hate to piss in your cornflakes, Officer, but we ran across a grunt who was stationed at Benning. Said the place was overrun by lamebrains," Dave said sadly. He started talking about there being no way out of the mess, and you locked eyes with Rick again when he then asked if you were holed up somewhere else. 

"Not really," Rick said bluntly, and Dave's eyebrows went up. 

"Those your cars out front?" 

"Yeah. Why?" Glenn asked, too friendly. 

"Well, we're living in ours. Those look kinda empty, clean. Where's all your gear?" 

"Why you asking?" you put in before either of them could speak. 

Dave shrugged and Tony offered you a friendly smile. "People are scarce, sweetheart." 

"We're with a larger group. Out scouting, thought we could use a drink," Hershel said, and you ground your back teeth together. 

"We're thinking about setting up around here. Is it safe?" 

"It can be," Glenn said easily, and you wanted to bang your head against the bar. "Though I have killed a couple walkers around here." 

You stood up straight as they started asking a few too many questions about where you were. Tony rose and wandered over to the wall, started taking a piss right there while Dave sang 'Old McDonald' under his breath. Your hand dropped toward your thigh, gripping your gun and sliding it out gently. Rick met your eyes and you blinked once. 

"You got a farm? Is it safe? Got food, water?" Dave asked. 

"Got cooze? I mean, she's hot, but I got a feeling she'd take a bite outta my dick rather than suck it, and I ain't had a piece of ass in weeks," Tony put in from where he was pissing on the floor. Your eyebrows shot up, as did the others in your group. 

He wasn't wrong, by any means. You would rather take a bite out of his dick than suck it, that was for sure.

"Ugh," Dave said, pressing his hands over his eyes. "Pardon my friend. City kids, they got no tact. No disrespect. So listen, Glenn-" 

"We've said enough," Rick snapped. 

"No, wait, this farm sounds sweet. How about a little southern hospitality? We've got some buddies back at camp, been having a real hard time. I don't see why you can't make room for a few more. We could pool our resources, our manpower." 

Your eyes snapped to Tony as he wandered toward the doors, done pissing now. Rick and Hershel refused to take in any more and Dave argued, while you braced yourself for what you were afraid was coming. 

"You don't know anything about us. Don't know what we've had to go through out there. Things we've had to do," Dave agreed when Rick pointed out that you didn't know them. "I bet you've had to do some of those same things yourself. Hell, she's in a gang- bet she's done some of them before the world went to shit, and she's obviously in. Ain't nobody's hands clean in what's left of this world. We're all the same." 

"No, we're not all the same," you said coldly. You were getting really tired of people assuming you were a killer just because you were in the club. Dave glanced at you and then back to Rick. 

"Come on, let's take a nice friendly ride to this farm and get to know each other," Dave urged. 

"That's not going to happen," Rick refused again. 

"This is bullshit," Tony snapped. 

"Calm down," you muttered, rolling your eyes, and he turned on you. 

"Don't you tell me to calm down! Don't ever tell me to calm down!" 

You stared at him without saying anything, and he kept blustering as Rick rose and headed toward him. 

"I'll shoot you assholes in the head and take your damn farm!" 

Your gun was up and aimed even while Dave tried to calm things down. "I'd be very careful what you do next if I were you," you said softly, stepping around the bar. 

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dave said. "Nobody's shooting anybody! Just friends, having a drink." He pulled his gun out and put it down on the bar before hopping over it and taking your place. 

You felt yourself smirk, knowing what he was going for. Asshole certainly wasn't a professional. You'd checked for a gun under the counter when you'd first come in, and there hadn't been one. Either the bartender hadn't tended the same rowdy crowds as the ones you knew in Atlanta, or someone had taken it already.

"We can't stay out there," Dave said, grabbing a bottle and pouring himself another drink. 

"Well, the farm's too crowded as it is. You'll just have to keep looking," Rick said firmly. 

"Yeah? Where do you propose we do that?" Dave asked. 

"I don't know," you snapped, tired of the verbal sparing and ready to get down to business. "I hear Nebraska's nice this time of year." 

Dave laughed, and it didn't sound very friendly. "Nebraska," he said, shaking his head. "This girl." He lunged for his gun on the bar. 

You and Rick fired at the same time.


	34. I Wanna See It Painted, Painted Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past killing/murder/crime  
> drinking and drug use references

Of course, that wasn't the end of it. You were about to leave- for the second time- and you heard a car pull up. Three men were wandering around looking for their friends, and they wouldn't leave. And of course, Rick started talking to them. 

And of course, of course, they started shooting when they found out their friends were dead. Because that's what you do, damn it. 

You tried really hard not to think about the fact that you'd killed a man, the first you'd pulled the trigger and taken out for your own, honest-to-God self. It was easy to keep that at bay when you found yourself covering Glenn as he cleared the back door. You fired, hands stead, when there was a noise outside the door, and you heard one of them run. 

Rick wanted the two of you to make a run for the car and bring it to the back. All in all, you thought that was a fairly stupid idea, but you didn't have any better ones, to be honest. 

And if you tried thinking to hard, you were fairly certain you'd stop functioning. 

So, Hershel covered you at the door and you and Glenn made a fucking run for it. You got fired at and Hershel handled it, hitting the guy as you and Glenn dove for cover, but of course there was someone out front on top of a building who fucking fired at you as well when you tried to go. You took a deep breath, ready to kill a second man if you had to in order to get out of there. There was a seventeen-year-old girl, a woman in love, a pregnant woman, and a kid counting on you getting these people home. 

You thanked every lucky fucking star you had that his buddy pulled up in a truck instead, yelling about roamers being everywhere. Asshat on the roof jumped for it and didn't make it, screaming his head off for help as Rick joined you. 

"Get Hershel," Rick whispered, and you shot him an incredulous glare. 

"No," you said flatly. 

"YN, he's-" 

"No, Deputy!" 

"He's hurt!" 

"I said no, Rick!" 

 

 

You lost. It was becoming an unfortunate habit with Rick. You covered Rick while Glenn retrieved Hershel, heading over to where the kid was fucking impaled on a fence spike. 

"Rick, that- that is not good," you hissed to him as you looked at it. The kid was screaming bloody fucking murder, and you growled at him to shut up. 

"He's a kid," Rick snapped. 

"He was just shooting at us!" Glenn's voice came from behind you, and you sighed. 

"Help me cover them," you said, resigned to the inevitable now. "Rick, I'm not dying for him. You're not either. Just so we're clear, I will knock you the fuck out and carry you to the car myself." 

"She can do it, too. She's, like, weirdly strong," Glenn muttered, and followed you to the mouth of the alley to keep an eye out for zombies. Behind you, Hershel was talking about cutting the kid's leg off. You tuned all that out while he screamed, and then you saw them. 

"Glenn- walkers," you said grimly. "You have two minutes and then we're leaving!" you yelled to the other two as you started shooting. You emptied one gun while they yelled at each other, and then the kid was screaming even louder- which you hadn't fucking thought was possible- and Rick was beside you with him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and bleeding all down Rick's front. 

"Let's go," Rick said shortly. 

You drove. 

 

 

You pulled up and Rick jumped from the truck bed where he'd ridden with Hershel and the injured kid, scooping up Carl who was running before you'd put it in park. Maggie went running to Hershel and Glenn, and Hershel snapped for the shed to be prepared for surgery. 

Daryl stalked over to you, ran his eyes over you critically, and glared. "The hell ya thinkin', goin' without telling me?" 

You gave him the best approximation of your bored look that you could manage, considering the way your hands were starting the shake and you kept seeing Tony's blood on the floor in a puddle beside your knee. "I was thinking you're not the boss of me and a drunk's ass needed saving. Kind of my job, even if its the wrong drunk. Hey, got some good shit, though. Maybe we'll get drunk tonight. Play Never Have I Ever." You winked at him, smiling sharply.

Daryl eyed you warily, taking a step closer. "Look, girl, I don't know what that fuckin' means, but it don't sound like a good idea." 

"I do," Shane said from your other side. "And it's not. Trust me. What the hell happened?" 

"Ran into some trouble," you said with a smirk his direction. "You enjoyed the hell out of our game, Officer Walsh, and don't deny it. What happened to Lori's face?" 

"Snuck out on her own. Got in a car accident. I brought her back," Shane declared, rolling his eyes at you. He gave Daryl an annoyed glare as he continued. "Dixon refused to go looking for Rick so Lori did it herself." 

"Didn't know ya'd gone with him. Figured he could handle his damn self," Daryl shot back, staring at Shane and reaching out to touch your arm. 

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, shaking Daryl's hand away in the process. "What, and I can't? Fuck both of you. Oh, wait.... that's the reason for this dick measuring moment we're having here, isn't? I already have. Well, tough shit, boys. Now I'll just get drunk by myself. After I handle the garbage." You were being a bitch and you were aware of it, but hey- you'd killed a man and shot a dead girl in the head all in the past twenty four hours. You'd earned your bitchiness. 

You stalked toward the back of the truck and grabbed the kid, pulling him out and tossing him over your shoulder like a sack of flour. 

Or a dead body you were about to burn to nothing.

"Who the hell is that?" T Dog asked, and Glenn sighed and answered. 

"That's Randall." 

 

 

You stayed silent and brooding at the big group meeting, leaning against the wall by the exit with your arms crossed while everyone debated whether or not bringing the kid back had been a good idea. Shane, predictably, was pissed that he'd been brought and pissed that Rick's plan was to heal him, give him water, and send him on his way. Others were debating the efficacy of that plan, but as usual, the loudest voice was Shane's. 

You'd been keeping watch while Hershel and Patricia tried to save the kid's leg. Hershel was pretty sure he'd have nerve damage, but that was better than being dead, being eaten by zombies, or having no lower leg. 

Daryl slipped in the back door shortly after the meeting started, having been wise enough not to follow you when you'd hauled Randall off. Come to think of it, Shane hadn't followed you either. You wondered idly if they'd decided to get in a fight, because Daryl looked odd. You frowned, studying him, and jerked your eyes away like you'd accidentally looked into the sun when you realized he was wearing his vest. 

What the hell did that mean? Why was he wearing it again all the sudden? He goes five years- plus however far into the end of the world you were- without wear it; with barely talking to you and telling you he hated you. And now, he was your friend and wearing your vest again? What the hell were the two of you doing? 

"You killed three of their men, took one of them hostage, but they just ain't gonna come looking?" Shane said sarcastically to Rick, and Daryl's head whipped up and his eyes turned to you. That was clearly the first he was hearing about the events of the evening. 

"Actually, Rick only killed one of their men. I killed another, and Hershel shot the third. Think zombies ate him, though. If you're going to be an ass, Walsh, at least be accurate about it. Shut the hell up or actually be fucking helpful, ok?" you snapped, looking away from the worry in Daryl's eyes. You didn't need anyone's pity or concern. You were fine, damn it. 

Your hands still shook and all you wanted was to get shitfaced drunk, and maybe dip into Merle's remaining stash of pills, but you were fine.

"Young lady-" Hershel began, and you turned your head to look at him, one eyebrow raised. 

"Don't, Hershel. I'm distasteful, remember? No, wait- 'abrasive'. The mouth comes with the package, and I've saved your ass enough to earn my cussing." 

Hershel looked at you sadly, like he wanted to help you but didn't know how, and T Dog spoke up. 

"We should post a guard on him." 

"Oh, a helpful suggestion!" you shot out sarcastically, breaking your stare down with Hershel. 

"He's out cold; won't wake up for hours," Hershel said quietly. 

Shane went off again, stalking around the table and heading out of the room. You tipped your head back against the wall and closed your eyes against the rage boiling in your stomach as he started running his mouth. When he started to stalk by you, you shot out an arm and slapped a hand on his chest without opening your eyes. 

"You're going to want to get your hands off me, Nameless," Shane said, voice low. 

You opened your eyes and looked at him, a smirk teasing your lips. God, you were itching for a fight. "Wanna go another round, Officer Walsh? Who put who on the ground?" 

"What the hell's your problem?" he snarled at you, looking both genuinely pissed off and genuinely confused. 

"Oh, finally," you sighed. "Someone goddamn asked. My problem? Is being caught between Deputy Do Good trying to save every fucking person in the world and Officer Asshole who would rather let it all burn. Do I look like the voice of fucking reason? Do I, Shane? No, I don't. Because, see, I'm a bad person. Shut up, Rick," you snapped when he started to argue. 

"I am. I know I'm a bad guy. So I shoot the little girl dead girl again. I dig the graves and burn the bodies. I've burned so many bodies, it doesn't even bother me, Shane. I shoot the asshole who wanted to come back here and get some ass- actual words, by the way. I'm not making this shit up. I shoot the oncoming horde of the dead and threaten to brain Rick and physically remove him if it comes down to that, because I will not let him die for some punk kid we don't know. I run into danger with you and someone else and come back without the someone else, and I live with that. I live with all of it so you people don't have to." 

You were yelling now, and it was so quiet when your voice stopped that you could have heard a pin drop. You could hear your own harsh breathing and feel the pulse throbbing in your ears in time with the roaring of rage that was in your mind. Shane was staring with wide eyes and Daryl had pushed off the wall and taken two steps toward you. Carol had his arm and was holding him still, but he was looking at you like he'd looked the day Merle shipped out. You ripped your eyes from his, shook your head in disgust, and started glaring all around at the rest of the group's frozen expressions. 

"This group? Needs a goddamn clue. And a fucking leader. And Shane? You and Rick need to go decide who's top dog, once and for all. Then you need to stop this shit, man. It's old and I'm over it and it's getting people hurt. I'll follow orders like a good little soldier. I'll beat the shit out of whoever needs it, even you. I'll kill whoever needs killing, because I do that now. Sort your shit, people. I'm going to go guard the kid. Hershel, we're keeping our guns. Don't fucking argue." 

You scoffed at them all again, turned on your heel, and walked out the door.


	35. Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice, Come On Pretty Baby, Kiss Me Deadly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> dubious consent due to intoxication  
> sexual content  
> blow jobs discussed  
> shitty decision making  
> drinking excessively  
> references to past killing/covering up deaths  
> references to past child abuse and sexual abuse

"Make me another, Billy," you called down the length of the bar, and he gave you a concerned look. 

It was nearing one am and you'd been there since- hell, you couldn't remember. Billy came toward you slowly, leaning against the mostly empty bar across from you. 

"You ok, YN?" he asked seriously. "I'm not so sure you need another one. You've, ah- you've been here awhile. Had a few." 

You rolled your eyes and patted his cheek. "You're sweet, Billy. I'm fine. Just had a shit day's all." 

He gave a heavy sigh and reached out his hand. "Give me your keys." 

You frowned at him. "What for? I'm fine!" 

"You're slurring. I know you well enough to know you only slur when you're totally fuckin' smashed. You're too drunk to drive anything, and I doubt you could balance well enough to get your leg over that bike. Give me your keys. I'll call Daryl." 

"No!" you yelled as he grabbed for your phone. You slapped your hand down over it and glared at him. "Don't want to talk about Daryl. Daryl's a dick." 

"Okay. Okay. Why don't I call Merle for you then? Hopefully he's sober," Billy muttered. 

You glared harder and sniffed a little. "Don't want Merle either. Daryl says- Daryl's a dick." 

"Yeah, you said that already. Look, YN, I can't let you leave here alone and I can't give you another drink. I'll call you a cab, ok? Just hang tight and I'll grab you some coffee and something to eat. You need to soak up some of that shit you've been chugging." Billy patted your hand and walked off, heading into the back. 

You scowled after him and rolled your eyes. You were fine, damn it. You got up and giggled as the world spun a little. 

"You ok, sweetheart?" 

You looked up and smiled at the stranger leaning over you. He looked nice. "I'm fine. Who're you?" 

He smiled back. "Johnny, sweetheart. What's your name?" 

"YN," you answered. 

"YN," he repeated. "That's a pretty name for a pretty thing like you. It fits." 

"Well, aren't you a smooth talker?" you muttered. He smiled wider and handed you a beer. 

"Yes. Yes, I am, sweetheart." 

The next thing you knew, you were in a bathroom stall, Johnny's hands under your shirt as you laughed. 

"Hey, how did we get in here?" you asked suddenly, giggling at the absurdity of it all. He pulled away from where he'd been biting along your neck and met your eyes. 

"What? This was your idea, sweetheart," he said, grinding hard against you where your legs were wrapped around him. "Don't you remember?" 

You laughed again, unable to stop. "No- wait. Maybe. Who are you again?" you asked, grabbing at his hands clumsily with yours. 

He grinned back at you and guided your hands to his belt buckle. "Johnny. Come on, sweetheart, you gave some big talk about what you could do with those hands and that mouth. Wanna see this magic you promised me." 

Oh. Yeah, ok. You giggled again as he guided you down to your knees with a hand in your hair. Yeah, you were good at this. You vaguely remembered saying that, out on the little dance floor while the jukebox blasted 'Talk Dirty To Me' and you'd told Johnny you'd do more than talk if he wanted-

The bathroom door slammed open and suddenly Johnny wasn't in front of you anymore. You pitched forward dizzily, still giggling like mad, and sprawled on the floor. 

"Merle! What are you doing here?" you asked, delighted to see him standing over you. He was holding onto the guy- 

Shit. You turned and started puking into the convenient toilet, and you heard Merle's voice yelling something, the sound of a fist hitting flesh, someone's pained cry- 

 

 

You'd brought a couple bottles from the bar, slipping them into the bag you'd taken from Tony after you killed him. Glenn had given you a worried look, but he hadn't said a word. 

You sat inside Daryl's tent, and you'd wondered briefly why he'd moved it out so far from camp and the house. You didn't really mind, though, especially not that you were half a bottle down and starting to feel pretty damn good. 

At least you told yourself you were feeling good. You wanted to be feeling good. 

You didn't want to be seeing puddles of blood, seeping out until they touched your knee as you searched a dead man's pockets. You didn't want to be seeing a little girl's hollow, grey cheeks and snarling lips as she staggered closer. You didn't want to see Otis's sweating face or feel his hand shaking yours firmly as he told you he just wanted to do right by that little boy. 

You didn't want to see burning bodies or streaked red on gleaming wood floors or your own fingers with bruises the fit the shape of your brass knuckles perfectly. 

You didn't want to see Merle's strung-out eyes or hear his wild laugh or the way he cried in the middle of the night as he came down from the drugs and liquor and all that was left was just him; just him and the things he wanted so badly to forget. 

You wanted to be feeling good, so you took another drink and told yourself you were. 

 

 

"Judas Priest," you muttered as the pounding headache woke you up. "What the fuck?" 

"I don't think ya want the Priest on right now, baby girl," Merle said. His voice sounded tensely amused and not quite right. You risked cracking your eyes open and thanked every god you could come up with that you'd pulled the shades in your room closed at some point the day before. 

You glanced over beside your bed and found Merle sitting, one of your kitchen chairs tipped back onto two legs and his feet propped up on the edge of your bed. His vest hung off the back of the chair and his feet were bare. He had a blanket over his lap that usually lived in a basket in your living room. 

"You sleep in that chair, Merle? Why?" 

He frowned at you. "What do ya remember from last night, girl?" 

You paused, catching something in his tone. "Fuck. I- I went to the bar. Not the Crow; Billy's place. I got pretty damn toasted. Then Billy took my keys, was going to call you, and-" You shook your head, which was a huge mistake considering the headache. 

"That all?" 

"There was- a guy? Yeah, a guy. Jessie? No, Johnny. I was dancing with him, and- Oh shit," you muttered, clapping a hand over your eyes. "Merle, did you walk in on me blowing a guy in a bar bathroom?" 

"That I did, baby girl. Well, I walked in on ya almost blowin' a guy in a bathroom. Believe me, darlin', I don't know which of us is more unhappy with that situation, either," he added as you groaned. "What the hell do ya think ya was doin'? Ain't I told ya to stop gettin' that drunk when ya alone? Last time ya got punched by a couple assholes; this time ya makin' shitty decisions in that bathroom." 

"Don't kill the guy. It's not his fault I make poor decisions when I mix Jack with beer and tequila shots," you said, pointing at Merle without meeting his eyes. 

"It is his fault he don't know how to tell a girl ain't fit to be makin' decisions like that," Merle snarled. 

You groaned. "Big brother? I'm pretty sure it was my suggestion. It's all real fuzzy, mind, but- yeah. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I told him I'd rock his world." 

Merle shook his head, bringing the chair down to two legs. "Girlie, I like it a helluva lot better when ya takin' care of me, not the other way 'round. I'll go make ya some coffee. Get ya a burrito from that place ya like." 

"Merle? Make sure they add the pickles. Bread and butter," you called after him, flopping back down and pulling the covers back over your head. 

"That's disgustin', baby girl!" Merle yelled from your kitchen. 

 

 

Daryl ducked into the tent and frowned at you. You smiled at him and held up the bottle. 

"Hey, Daryl! Changed my mind. You can drink with me after all," you told him with a smirk. 

He frowned. "I ain't so sure that's a good idea. How full was that thing when ya started, girl?" 

You thought about that, wrinkling your forehead, then shrugged. "Full 'nough. Come on, drink with me! Merle-" you broke off and giggled. "Merle always told me drinking alone's a bad idea for me. He tell you about the time he found me blowing some guy in Billy's bathroom?" 

Daryl's face got hard and he snatched the bottle from your hands. "The fuck would he tell me that?" He took a hasty drink as you laughed again. 

"It was our anniversary. I fucked up, that's for sure. God, I threw up for like two hours the next morning. Ugh. He's right, though. I make shit decisions when I drink alone." You flashed him a smile as he stood there awkwardly. "Good thing you're here to drink with me!" 

"Ya got shit faced on our anniversary and gave a guy a blow job in the bathroom at Billy's?" he asked, incredulous. "Which anniversary?" 

"Oh. Huh- the first one after you dumped my ass," you waved a hand expansively and Daryl took another long drink. 

 

"Fuck," he muttered. "That's where he went at one in the damn mornin'." 

"He rescued me. Oh, wait- he said I didn't blow the guy! Well, that's something, at least. Then the next year, I rescued his ass from getting a beat down in the Crow itself. I haven't done so hot on our anniversaries since you left me, you know. Hey, give me that bottle back," you said with a frown, trying to get up and take it from him. 

"Shit, girl. Ya smashed, ain't ya?" Daryl said with a sigh, and sat down beside you. "Shouldn't let ya have this back." 

You glared at him for a minute before you remembered something. "Ha! You can keep that one. I've got a spare." You rooted around in your bag- 

The bag- The bag you'd taken from a dead man, whose blood was still soaked into the knee of the pants you were wearing- 

You snatched your hand back like you'd burned it. 

"Hey. What's wrong?" Daryl asked softly. 

You shook your head and reached for the bottle he held instead. "I got a spare, but I don't want to think about that bag. Or the dead guy. I just want feel good, Daryl." 

He pulled the bottle out of your reach and you chased after it, climbing half into his lap and laughing as you did. You fell against him, resting your head on his shoulder as the world spun and you giggled. 

"The hell ya doin', girl?" he snapped, but his arm wrapped around you, steadying you. 

You drew yourself up and settled more firmly on his lap, putting your hands on his shoulders and leaning back to look up at the tent ceiling above you. He muttered an oath and grabbed your waist with both hands. You leaned your full weight into his hands, trusting him to keep you from falling backwards. "I like tents. Remember when we were kids, Daryl? That tent you kept by the river? It was our only safe place after Merle left, 'cause there wasn't anybody around to get between you and Will. Man, I fucking hated Will." You frowned, thinking about the scars on Daryl's back and Merle's voice when he was in pain and the way Daryl held his shoulders when he was hurt and didn't want you to know. You shook your head violently to clear those thoughts from it, and went back to thinking about the tent. "We kept going there to get high instead of going to school. Wish I could get high now." 

"I remember," he muttered, looking at you oddly as you sat back up and ran your fingers through his hair. He grabbed at your hand to stop you and you gripped his fingers instead. "Don't think ya need to get high now, girl. Ya gonna be hurtin' in the morning as is."

"I was so in love with you, Daryl. God, when I caught you out there with Melissa fuckin' Everette? I was so angry," you said with another laugh. "It wasn't just jealousy, though Christ knows I'd thought about making out with you there enough times that I was practically blind with it." 

"Yeah, ya hated her," he said quietly, his fingers moving gently over your side as he stared at you, something in his eyes that you couldn't identify. 

"I did. She dumped you two days later, too. Bitch. Who the fuck would dump you? You're hot. And so damn good. Saved me, you know? From that asshat who snuck into my room. Took me away from there, like Prince fucking Charming. Then saved me from probably drowning myself in the shower accidentally the night Merle left. Think you could save me from anything," you rambled happily, playing with his fingers with both of your hands. "Got damn arms like Superman. Who wouldn't want Superman? Plus, you do that thing-" 

He slapped his other hand over your mouth, lips twitching even as his eyes slid away from yours. "Never did that thing with her, YN. Look, girl, ya so drunk it ain't even funny. Why don't ya get some sleep? I'll see if Hershel's got any Tylenol or somethin', 'cause ya gonna need it in a few hours." 

You shook your head under his hand, then ran your tongue over one of his fingers. He jerked his hand back even as his eyes went wide. You laughed again and leaned in, lips against his ear. "Rather stay here with you, babe," you whispered, then trailed your lips over his cheek toward his mouth. 

"Hey. No, YN, that's a bad fuckin' idea," Daryl said, hands grabbing your shoulders and moving you back. 

You pouted. "Why? Come on, Daryl, don't you want me?" 

He laughed harshly. "Baby, I wanted ya all my damn life. Ya freaked me the fuck out when ya caught me with Melissa, 'cause there I was pretendin' she was you, and I heard your voice and wondered if I'd smoked more'n a cigarette." 

"Awww," you said, smiling and leaning in to kiss him again, but he held you back firmly, looking you dead in the eye. 

"Said no, girl. Ain't gonna let ya make me another bad decision ya make when you're drunk. Besides, sex ain't what ya need right now. Baby, shit's happened. Ya killed someone." 

You jerked back with a gasp, seeing Tony's hand swinging his shotgun up; feeling the weight of your gun in your hand as you pulled the trigger, just once. A puddle of blood under a dead little girl- 

No, that wasn't right. But it didn't matter if it was right or not, it all hurt. It all hurt and you were never going to be the same; you were a killer like everyone seemed to think you were. You really were a bad person now. 

"Hey. Hey. I got ya, baby. That's it. Just cry it out, YN. Just cry it out," Daryl whispered, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest, scooting both of you down to the ground and curling around you tightly.

You clutched his shirt and shook as you cried, and he stroked your hair and whispered in your ear until your fell asleep. 

 

 

Carol brought you eggs the next morning. You were slumped in front of the little campfire, trying to work up the energy to ask Daryl why the fuck you were way out here away from everything, but not yet having succeeded. She walked up with two plates and an amused expression. 

"Brought you breakfast," she called, and you groaned and slapped a hand over your ears. She stopped and looked at you. "Aw, honey, you look like shit. Don't let Glenn see you; he's still mad you weren't hung over at the CDC. He'll gloat like crazy." 

You didn't even smile, but you mumbled a thank you as you took the plate from her. 

"I know it's a little unusual at breakfast, but Patricia brought out some pickles," Carol said as you stared at the plate. 

You looked up at her, eyes wide and hopeful. "Are- are these bread and butter?" 

She nodded and Daryl started laughing as you grabbed at them with your bare hands. You moaned as you shoveled in a bite of eggs and pickles, and Carol started laughing too. 

"Ya one lucky bitch, girl," Daryl told you, pointing at you with his knife. He was working on making arrows, and you ignored him as you kept shoveling down the eggs. "Her damn hangover food was a breakfast burrito from this shit hole of a place, with them damn pickles added," he told Carol, amusement dancing in his eyes. 

You swallowed a the mouthful you had and made a face at him. "It wasn't a shit hole. It was- yeah, ok, it was a shit hole. God, this is almost perfection. Just needs hot sausage and some Colby Jack. Thank you, Carol, you goddess," you told her sincerely, and she laughed again. 

"Well, it's the least I can do for you, after what you did for Sophia. If you need anything else-" she said seriously, and you flinched.

"Don't thank me for that," you said harshly. "Don't." 

"Ok," Carol agreed soothingly. "I won't. When you're ready, come on to camp. The others want to talk to you." She left with a smile and a wave, and you went back to stuffing your face while Daryl stared at you. 

"Ya gonna talk about it yet?" he asked after a minute. 

You shrugged. "What is there to talk about? I fucking killed someone. He would have killed me or worse if I hadn't handled him." 

"Weren't that easy for ya," he said softly, putting down his knife and the stick he'd been working smooth. 

"How would you know?" you snapped, glaring. "You thought I was a killer already." 

"Naw. Said that 'cause I was angry. I know ya ain't never killed someone till now." 

You stared at him and scoffed. "Fuck you, then." 

"Tried that last night'n I told ya no," he shot back, and you flinched again, actually hurt. 

"Asshole!" 

"Bitch," he replied cheerfully. "C'mon, baby. Talk to me, or I'll make ya talk to fuckin' Shane. Ya ain't gonna keep it all in." 

You glared. "You friends with Shane all the sudden?" 

He tossed his head and sneered. "Hell naw. Hate him. But I love ya, so I'll make sure ya aight even if I hate it. I'll push every one of them buttons until I find the right one, or I'll make him do it." 

You sighed and set your plate down before scrubbing a hand over your eyes. "I'm- I'm not alright, Daryl. I will be, though." 

"Ya don't have to be," he said quietly. "And if ya ain't, I'm here." 

You gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you." 

He nodded and went back to working on his arrows. You watched for a minute. 

"Daryl?" 

"Yeah, ya can eat my damn eggs, too, long as ya talk."


	36. I Fought the Law, And the Law Won

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Rick stopped the car and you glanced at the back of his head with a raised eyebrow. 

"Shane, get out. YN, stay here, ok?" Rick asked, and you sighed.

"Whatever, Deputy." 

You watched them out the windshield. You didn't have to wonder what was going on; you knew well enough. They were talking about Lori and the baby. You sat forward, leaning between the front seats, as Rick got a fiercer look than you'd ever seen on his face and talked at Shane. Shane looked away, head down, and glanced toward the car. His eyes met yours and he ran a hand over the back of his head, then met Rick's gaze and said something in a quiet voice. 

Rick nodded and started to walk back, but Shane was talking again and Rick stopped. You could read the pain and the sincerity on Shane's face from where you were and hoped like hell Rick could hear it in his voice. Rick nodded, once, and stalked toward the trunk of the Hyundai, checking on the kid. 

Then they opened the doors and got back in, Rick started the car, and the silent as the grave drive resumed. 

"We good now, boys?" you asked after a beat, because you were just an asshole like that sometimes. 

"Yeah," Shane said softly. "Yeah, we're all good." 

"Great." 

 

 

"It's more than eighteen," Shane observed. 

"Yeah, I'm looking for a place," Rick answered. There'd been some conversation- mostly Rick talking about plans for the winter, you and Shane chiming in when it seemed required. Rick had shot you a look in the rear view and asked if you were ok. You'd given him a lazy smirk and flashed a peace sign. 

It'd been three days since you'd killed a man. You were as ok as you could hope for, and that was going to have to be good enough for Rick.

"Place for what?" Shane asked. 

"Give him a fair shake," Rick answered. 

You sighed- loudly. "Deputy Do Good, isn't letting him go enough?" 

"What are you saying?" he asked, and you shrugged. 

"He gets a shot no matter where we drop him off. We didn't give his buddies that option. Why the hell does he get it?" 

"We did give them the option. They chose to draw on us," Rick snapped. "Look, YN, if you need to-" 

"Nameless back there'll be fine, Rick. She's got point though," Shane interrupted.

"Oh, don't start again," Rick said, turning his glare onto Shane. 

"There," you said, leaning between them and pointing out the window. Rick didn't say anything, but pulled in and put the car in park. 

"Are we all in agreement here?" he asked harshly, and you patted his shoulder as you slid toward the door. 

"I'm a good little foot soldier, Deputy." 

 

 

You took out the security guard walkers with your knife, stepping up and handling it before Rick and Shane could say anything about it. Then you were checking the grounds, looking for supplies before you dumped the kid and left. 

The burned pile of bodies gave you and Rick both a pause. 

"Walkers," Rick said softly.

"Yeah," you agreed. "Rick, we killed people." 

He gave you a long look. "I'm aware." 

"You think it was the right call?" 

"I think it was the only call," he answered steadily. "You know that." 

You nodded, staring down at the burned bodies. "I burned bodies before they were bodies of the dead. I covered up murders for the club, Rick. But that was the first person I killed. It was the right call, yes. But if that was, then how is saving this kid the right call too?" 

Rick sighed. "I know you did. I know you've done bad things." 

"I'm a bad person, Deputy," you snapped. 

"No. You're a person who's done bad things. Made some bad choices. Giving Randall a chance, saving his life- that was the right choice. It's different." 

"Yeah," you said softly. "I don't like killing people. Putting down Sophia, killing Tony- Rick, I'm a little messed up right now." 

He pulled you into a hug. "I know. Hell, I'm a little messed up right now, too." 

"Don't write Shane off, Rick. He's done fewer bad things than me," you said into Rick's shoulder. "I know he's- well, he's a loose fucking cannon right now, but he's a little messed up too." 

"He killed Otis, didn't he? Lori says that's what Dale thinks," Rick said seriously, giving you a hard look. "Did he?" 

You shook your head and dashed at the tears in your eyes. "I don't think so. But Otis- we sacrificed Otis. Both of us. I could have argued with Shane. Sure, he got the gun from me, but I could have gotten it back. I didn't. I knew Carl had to live. Carl had to live, Rick. I'd have driven away from Shane just as surely as I drove away from Otis if I'd had to." 

Rick patted your cheek gently. "I know. Can't thank you enough for what you did for him." 

You scoffed. "Shane and I, we left a man to die no matter what went down right before that. Don't thank me. I'll do whatever needs to be done, Rick. But if Shane's a threat, then so am I." 

"The difference, YN, is that you listen to people. When someone says to stop, you stop. Shane-" 

"Shane is dealing, the same as I am. He- Look, I know you know about him and Lori. You know that's Shane's baby," you said bluntly, and Rick stared at you, eyes angry. You held up your hands for peace. "It's your baby; I get that. Just give Shane some more time to get his shit together. That's all I'm asking, ok?" 

 

 

You siphoned fuel from the trucks there while the deputies hauled in the kid. You stood back, leaning against the bus with your arms crossed while they pulled the bag from his head and the headphones from his ears. 

"Waste of good battery life. I'd kill for some music," you muttered- again- and Rick rolled his eyes at you. 

"What the hell is this?" the kid asked when he was free of the duct tape. "Oh, come on! I can help you guys! Why would you save my life just to kill me by leaving me here?" he yelled after them. They headed back toward the car, Shane touching your arm as he passed. 

You fell into step with them, ignoring the asshole on the ground as Rick grabbed his knife and tossed it down behind him. And then you couldn't ignore him. 

"I went to school with Maggie, for God's sake!" 

 

 

"Rick," you said grimly as the kid kept talking. 

"Rick, he knows where the farm is," Shane snapped. 

Rick took a deep breath through his nose, jaw tight, as he stared at nothing, and you sighed. 

"I got it," you snapped, pulling your gun and aiming at the kid's wide eyes. Holy fucking shit, how did your life come to this? 

"YN, no!" Rick cried, knocking into you right as you pulled the trigger. Your shot went wide, and Rick glared at you. 

"What the hell, YN?" he yelled. 

You stared up at him from the ground. "He knows where the farm is! There's no other choice!" 

"Not now! Just- not now," Rick said, reaching down a hand to pull you up. You took it, lips pressed together, and nodded. "And not you, ok? I'm not putting that on you. Not ever, but especially not right now." 

"When, Rick?" Shane snapped, and he was eyeing the kid too. "We both know it's gonna have to be done."

"When I've had a chance to think about it," Rick snarled. 

You and Shane exchanged looks behind Rick's back, but you shrugged. "He's the boss." 

 

 

"It's a man's life. I'm going to take a night; think about it," Rick said. 

Your arms were crossed as you leaned against the bus and Rick and Shane argued. 

"Come on, man! The right choice is the one that keeps us alive!" Shane snapped. 

You tipped your head back and closed your eyes when they started punching each other. You opened them after a minute, though, and ducked into the fray. Right in time, you thought grimly. You punched Shane once and snatched the gun from he'd pulled from Rick's holster out of his hands, then- while he stared at you in surprise- yanked his from his pants. 

"No guns!" you snapped. "No knives! Club rules. You wanna beat the shit out of each other? Go ahead. Hell, it'll probably be cathartic. But you don't get to kill each other or maim each other." 

You slapped both their guns onto the hood of closest car while they stared at you, breathing hard. "Ok, boys. Go ahead, or use this breather to decide on rational discussion again. Your choice. I'm out." You lifted your hands in a gesture of peace and stepped out from between them. 

They stared at each other in silence, and then Rick charged at Shane. That truly, genuinely, wasn't the choice you'd expected, but you shrugged and settled back to watch in case things got out of hand again. 

 

 

The kid was crawling toward the knife and you were keeping one eye on him and one on where Rick was currently punching Shane. 

"Hey, boys? Maybe wrap it up soon?" you suggested, walking over and kicking the knife further out of the kid's reach. He glared up at you and you shrugged. "Be glad he's a good guy, kid. Up to me, you'd be dead." 

Rick turned to look at you and suddenly seemed to realize what he was doing. He rose and walked away from Shane for a minute, and Shane stayed on the ground. Rick took a deep breath, wiped the blood from his lip, and turned back to Shane. He held a hand down to him. Shane stared for a minute, then let Rick pull him to his feet. 

"You don't make the calls anymore," Rick said firmly and Shane's jaw worked but he nodded. 

"Finally!" you exclaimed, tossing your hands in the air. "It's about damn time. Are you done now? Both of you?" 

"Yeah, we're done," Shane muttered, and you almost believed him. Shane headed your way, but Rick stayed where he was for a moment, staring at Shane's back and looking lost. 

Then the window of the building behind him shattered as a walker dived through it, head first. 

 

 

One walker became a whole fucking ton, and you ended up trapped in the bus with Shane. Shane's back was on the sliding door and his eyes were wild. 

"You wanna handle these guys?" he snapped, since his gun was on the hood of a car out there. 

You rolled your eyes at him. "One at a time, ok? Open it; I fire; close it." 

He nodded, and you started the brutal process. You were two walkers down when you heard Rick screaming at you as he fired. 

"Shane! YN! Go for the back door!" 

You stared at the Hyundai, Rick leaning out the passenger side window and shooting at the walkers gathered around the bus. 

"You heard the man, Nameless- get your ass out the back!" Shane snapped, and shoved you forward through the bus. You ran, laughing, and kicked out the emergency door, diving head first through the open back window of the Hyundai. You scrambled across the seat as Shane's legs slid through after you, grabbing him and pulling him in while you yelled at Rick to drive, just drive. 

Shane was laughing now too, and he wrapped his arm around you shoulders and kissed you hard on the mouth as you leaned against him. He drew back almost instantly, and relief at being alive had you sagging against him on the seat and patting his leg. Rick passed Shane his gun back and it occurred to you that Rick wasn't driving. 

"Whoo! You see that? You see what we did?" the kid you'd come here to dump was yelling, and you stared at him. 

Rick had duck taped him to the driver's seat and the wheel, and he was going on about being helpful and part of your group. 

You leaned forward and kissed Rick's cheek. "You are one crazy bastard, Deputy. Can we get this asshole out of my seat now?"


	37. If You Want Blood (You Got It)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> torture  
> references to rape/non con (cannon)

Daryl was waiting when you pulled the car back up. He had his arms crossed and was still wearing his vest. You'd asked him about his sudden trend, and he'd scowled and blown you off. 

You hopped out and stretched, and his eyes shot up at the blood on all of you as Rick and Shane got out too. 

"Didn't ditch him," you told Daryl with a shrug. "He knows Maggie from school." 

"Yeah? He try to kill ya or somethin'?" Daryl asked, eyeing Rick and Shane as they pulled the kid from the back and started hustling him to the barn. 

"Nope. They got in a fight. Finally. Then there were zombies. I'm good, Daryl," you told him with a smile, touching his arm gently. "Come on, let's go see what Rick wants to do with this kid now." 

 

 

Turns out, Rick wanted information. 

"We need to know what he knows," Rick said firmly as you, Shane, and Daryl huddled with him outside the shed. 

"I'll go," Daryl offered with a sigh. 

You laughed humorlessly, reaching into your jacket pocket and pulling out your brass knuckles. You slipped them into place while the three men stared at you, flexing your fingers to settle them. "I'll handle it, babe. Punching someone for information is easy," you said with a shrug. 

Rick sighed. "You know it shouldn't be, right?" 

You took off your jacket, pulled the vest off of it, and handed the jacket to Daryl. "Always has been for me, Deputy. Hell of a lot easier than killing a man or cleaning up a death. Be back soon." 

"I'm goin' with ya," Daryl said flatly.

"Good," you said with a grin. "I usually did this shit with Merle. Works better if one's asking questions while the other works them over." 

"I did not need to hear that," Rick muttered as Daryl handed your jacket to Shane. 

 

 

The kid hit the ground, nose bleeding, and started crying. "I told you-" he started. 

You snorted as Daryl swooped in and grabbed him from the ground, dropping him back into the chair. "You haven't told me shit, kid. Try again."

"I barely knew those guys! I met the on the road!" 

You flexed your fingers and looked at the blood on the brass knuckles. "How many in your group?" 

The kid didn't respond, shaking his head. His eye was already swelling, and his nose was crooked. You weren't sure if it was broken or not, but for your purposes it really didn't matter. You sighed and slipped the brass knuckles off your hands, tucking them into your back pocket. You held out a hand to Daryl and he slapped his knife into your open palm, handle first. 

"No no no no, come on, man! Ahhh!" the kid screamed as you dropped to a crouch in front of him. You slammed the knife, point first, into the wood beside his leg. 

"How many was that?" you asked again, voice dangerous and cold. 

"Thirty!" 

"Where?" Daryl snapped. 

You reached over and ripped the bandage from his leg and he screamed. "I don't know! I swear! We were never any place more than a night!" 

You pulled Daryl's knife from the wood and set the tip of it in the healing wound on his leg, popping the first few stitches. 

"Scouting? Plannin' on stayin' local?"

"I don't know! They left me behind!" 

Daryl sighed. "Describe 'em, then." 

The kid started yelling nonsense, and you dug the point of the knife further into his leg, opening up the wound. He screamed, real pain, and then started babbling. "Ok! They have weapons! Heavy stuff. Automatics. But I didn't do anything!" 

"Your boys shot at my boys. Shot at my girl? Tried to take this farm? You just went along for the ride? Tryin' to tell me you're innocent?" Daryl snarled. 

"Yes! These people took me in. A whole group of 'em. Men and women, kids to. Just like you people. Thought I'd have a better chance with them, you know?" the kid said. 

You pulled the knife from his leg, wiped the blade on his pants, and stood as he continued, voice getting softer.

"But we go out, scavenge- just the men. One night, we- we found this little campsite. Man and his two daughters. Teenagers, you know? Real young. Real cute. Their daddy had to watch while these guys, they- And they didn't even kill him afterwards! They just- they just made him watch as his daughters- They just- just left him there." 

Your hands shook as you stared at him, and Daryl reached over and slowly took the knife from your hands. He grabbed your shoulder and gave you a push in the direction of the door. 

"Get out of here now, girl," he snapped, staring at the kid. The kid's eyes went wide. 

"But- but I didn't- I didn't touch those girls!" he stammered. "Please, please- you gotta believe me. I ain't like that man! I ain't- I ain't like that-" 

Daryl lunged forward and kicked the kid in the leg. You stood and watched, eyes hard, and let him kick the kid twice more before you called his name, sharply. He looked up at you and for a moment, you didn't think he was going to stop. 

 

 

Outside the building, he turned to you, eyes flashing with rage. Before he could say a word, you grabbed his hand and held on tightly. 

"Don't. Don't," you whispered harshly. "No one's ever touched me, so please don't make this about me." 

He glared, then yanked you close and held on. "Won't make it about ya. But ya ain't goin' in there alone, either."

"Thank you. Come on, the group needs information, babe," you said, touching his cheek. 

He nodded again, wrapping an arm around you as the two of you started walking back. "I'll kill 'im if Rick don't," he muttered, and you flinched. 

"No, you won't. You don't want that on your shoulders, Daryl. Trust me," you whispered. 

You slid from under his arm as you got close to camp, not giving him a chance to respond.

"Got a gang of thirty men. Plus women and children in their group," you reported, and everyone was eyeing the blood on your knuckles and on Daryl's. "They have heavy artillery and they aren't looking to make friends." 

"They roll through here, our boys are dead," Daryl said grimly. "And our women, they're gonna- they're gonna wish they were."

"What'd you do?" Carol asked softly. 

Daryl shot her a look. "We had a little chat." 

"No one goes near this guy," Rick said firmly. "He's a threat. We have to eliminate the threat."

"You're just going to kill him?" Dale demanded, looking shocked. 

"It's settled," Rick snapped. "I'll do it today." 

"Rick, I can-" you started to offer, but he cut you off.

"No. It'll be me."

 

 

Dale argued and called for another day's thought. Everyone would consider on their own, then meet that evening for discussion. You thought that was a grand old waste of time, but Rick was the boss. 

When Dale came to talk to you and Daryl, you both blew him off. Daryl had on his don't give a shit front, and you thought the kid needed to die. Dale was obviously desperate if he was coming to see you two. You mostly ignored him, tinkering with Merle's bike while Daryl tried to get Dale to leave him the fuck alone. 

"Torturing people? You're a decent man. So is Rick. Shane- Shane's different," Dale said, shaking his head. 

You laughed without any humor, and Daryl shot you a look. 

"Why? Cause he killed Otis?" Daryl asked, and Dale's eyes got wide. "Ya gonna say somethin' about YN next? She was there too. Plus she's the one did most of the torturin' in there." 

"Shane tell you that he killed him? YN, did Shane kill Otis?" Dale asked bluntly. 

You rose and walked over to him, smirking. "Oh, so now you're asking, not just leaping to conclusions?" 

"Yes. I'm asking," Dale said. 

"Fine. No, Shane didn't kill Otis. Otis sacrificed himself to save us. Now fuck off, Dale," you snapped, and ducked into the tent to grab your second bottle. 

Outside, you heard Daryl's voice in low, pissed off hiss. "Look, I don't give a shit if that kid lives or dies. This group is damn broken, yeah. But ya got a lot of fuckin' nerve, talkin' shit about Shane. My girl in there has backed up his goddamn story every step of the way, so ya call him a fuckin' killer and a danger, ya callin' her one too. And I don't take kindly to people messin' with her, ya got me? Now get out of here, man. Go irritate someone else."


	38. Let It Bleed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mention of drugs  
> major character death (cannon)

The meeting went about as well as you'd expected. 

"It is a young man's life! It is worth more than a five minute conversation! Is this what it's come to? We kill someone because we can't decide what else to do with him? You saved him and now look at us! He's been tortured. He's gonna be executed! How are we any better than those people that we're so afraid of?" Dale demanded. He shook his head, gripping his hat in his hands. 

People talked over each other, asking about other options and generally snapping. Emotions were high, you got that. You stayed silent in the background, thumbs hooked through your belt loops and ankles crossed as you leaned on the wall. Daryl was nearby, watching you and the group. He spoke up occasionally, but you said nothing. Whatever the decision was, you'd back it. 

Dale shook his head when Rick asked if anyone wanted the floor before your group made a final decision. "You once said that we don't kill the living," Dale pleaded with Rick. 

"That was before the living tried to kill us," Rick snapped. 

"Don't you- don't you see? If we do this, than the people that we were, the world that we knew is dead! And this new world is ugly. It's harsh. It's survival of the fittest!" 

You broke your silence for the first time. "The world you knew is dead, Dale. The dead ate it," you said. "And any world that wasn't survival of the fittest was an illusion anyway." 

"Just because you're a criminal and a killer doesn't mean the rest of us are!" Dale yelled, rounding on you. 

You didn't move, merely raising an eyebrow at him. You weren't bothered by it, since it was, you know, the truth; but Shane not so much. He took three steps and grabbed Dale by the shirt, pulling him back away from you. 

"You know, old man, I'm getting real tired of you throwing that word around," Shane snapped. 

Dale glared at him. "You would, since you're a killer right there with her. The two of you killed Otis." 

"For the last time, Dale; no we did not! Otis was killed by the walkers," you said wearily as Shane snarled at him. 

"And did you sacrifice him to those walkers?" Dale shot back. 

Shane let go of Dale and backed off with a huff of air. He ran a hand over his head and sighed. "I tried to sacrifice myself to the walkers. Look, man, if there's another viable option, we should take it. Anybody got any ideas?" 

They let it drop, but some of them were eyeing you and Shane suspiciously. Of course, there weren't any viable options other than execution. In the end, Dale stormed off alone, the group almost unanimous in its decision to kill the kid. 

You didn't even feel bad for him. He'd been accusing you of things, after all. 

 

 

"Shit," you muttered as the squad car's siren and lights cut on. You pulled the bike over with a sigh, thinking about large quantities of weed in your saddlebags.  
Hopefully this was just a traffic stop, and you could either talk your way out of it, or take the ticket and move on. You cut the engine as the officer opened the door and stepped out. 

He hitched up his belt and headed your way. You eyed him as he approached, taking in the dark curly hair and the way he filled out the uniform. He wasn't bad looking, you thought idly. And he carried himself like he knew it. 

"Ma'am," he said with a nod as he approached you. "Can you step off the bike, please? That a Harley?" 

You set the kickstand and swung off the bike. "Yeah, Softail. You ride, Officer... Walsh?" you asked, looking at the name patch. 

"Naw. She's a beauty, though," he said easily. "License and registration?" 

"Back pocket and in one of my saddlebags," you replied, and he nodded. You handed things over, carefully not unzipping your saddlebag too far. 

"So, you're in the Nameless, huh? What are you doing in King County?" Officer Walsh asked as he checked your documents. 

You shrugged, perching on the seat of your bike. "Just passing through." 

"Hmm." He handed you back your things and rested his hands on his belt. "I'm gonna have to ask you to open up those saddlebags, Ma'am." 

You tilted your head at him. "Why? Can I ask why you pulled me over?" 

"Pulled you for speeding," Officer Walsh said easily. "I'd like you to open them up because I asked you to. I have a feeling I'm gonna find something interesting in there." 

You frowned. "That's profiling, Officer." 

He shrugged. "Prove me wrong." 

You hesitated, gritted your teeth, and tried another tactic. You pulled your helmet off and shook your head, running a hand through your hair so it tumbled nicely. Then you flashed the officer a smile. "Look, why don't you just give me my ticket and let me on my way? I'm just passing through here, and I'll be out of King County's hair in no time."

He gave you a long once-over that had you getting your hopes up. "Naw, I don't think so. See, you look like trouble, and I've had about enough trouble the past few days. There's all kinds of stories about Atlanta coming in, sweetheart. I'm not going to let you bring in any crazy drugs or shit and spread things to my town. Now, open the up or I will." 

"Don't you need a warrant?" you snapped, crossing your arms. 

Walsh shrugged. "Naw. You resisted; I put you under arrest. That's the hard way, though. Don't want to have to do that." 

You glared. "Not going to let this go, are you?" 

"Nope," he said easily. "And your resistance is making me more and more convinced I'm right. Think I'm going to cuff you now, Ma'am. For my safety, you understand. Alone out here with a member of a known gang." 

"Oh, fuck you, Officer!" you spat, tossing your hands up in disgust.

"You soliciting a police officer too? Come on, turn around and put your hands behind your back, sweetheart," he said, pulling the cuffs and rattling them at you between his fingers. 

"Damn it!" you yelled, and assumed the position. "You're a dick, Officer Walsh." 

"Yeah, I been told that before."

 

 

They tried to leave you out of it. Shane and Daryl both told you to stay in the house with the others. You didn't bother to respond to either of them, more annoyed that they picked this topic to unite on than anything else. 

Rick was the one who finally told them to leave you alone and let you watch their backs. 

You walked with them to the barn, Shane and Rick in the lead. You and Daryl walked the prisoner, Daryl with a hand on his shirt and you with a gun drawn as guard. He started pleading when he saw you were heading toward the barn, and it was easier than it should have been to ignore his voice. 

"Put him there," Rick directed, and Shane and Daryl forced him to his knees and blindfolded him. You leaned against the door, gun still in your hand, just in case. 

You thought about the sound of Merle crying at night; the clammy touch of dead skin on yours; blood on the knee of your bike jeans that would probably never be gone, even when it was washed away. 

Rick checked his Python. 

You thought about the weight of a gun in your hands; the way brass knuckles bruised both you and the person you hit; and how fucking easy it was to fall asleep at night after tossing a body into an incineration and slipping the man on shift a couple hundred dollar bills. 

The kid sobbed brokenly, and Rick asked him if he had any final words. 

You blocked the kid's voice with the sound of Merle's hysterical laughter; the roar of the bike's engine as you drove too fast without a helmet to wash away the smell of death and disinfectant; the ringing of your phone in the middle of the night; and gunshots. 

"Do it, Dad. Do it," Carl said from the door. 

Rick didn't do it. 

 

 

Dale was screaming.

You were running before anyone else, your gun drawn; feet carrying you toward the sound of one of your own in danger without a command from your conscious mind required. Rick and Shane were right behind you, and Daryl came out of the shed where he'd been securing the kid, yelling a question at you as he came. 

You reached the field and saw the cow first, guts spilled on the ground. Then you saw the walker ripping into Dale's stomach to try to reach his intestines. Daryl threw himself at the walker, taking it down with his knife through its brain and yelling toward the others to help them find you. You froze in place, looking into Dale's wide, agonized eyes. 

"Jesus," you whispered as Rick and Shane skidded to a halt and stared as well, both of them breathing hard. "What do we do? Shit, shit, what do we do?" 

"There's nothing we can do," Hershel's voice was calm but sad, and you realized the others were all gathered around. 

"He's suffering," Andrea sobbed, kneeling beside Dale and holding his hand. "Do something!"

Oh Christ almighty; Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the goddamn fucking camel, you did not want to do what you knew had to be done. You shoved a hand into your hair, gripping and pulling as you fought with yourself, but finally you lowered it, shaking, and nodded. You bit your lip, took a deep breath, and pulled your gun. You aimed, and the gun rattled as your hand trembled. You brought up your other hand to steady the treacherous thing and drew in another hard breath.

Daryl snatched the gun from your hands. 

"No," he snapped. "You ain't got to do everything, baby." 

He moved Rick aside even as Rick started to draw his Python, looked down at Dale, and sighed. 

"Sorry, brother," he said, and pulled the trigger.


	39. Hell's Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past murder and assorted crime  
> mentions of past threat of sexual abuse  
> heavy drinking  
> death of a poor, innocent cow (cannon)

You walked to the tent in silence. Daryl went with you, so close his hand brushed yours every few steps. He was shooting you quick, concerned glances, but he didn't say a word. When you reached your campsite, you whirled on him. 

You were so angry. All you could see was the sadness in Daryl's eyes as he looked down at Dale and pulled the trigger, Dale's mouth working soundlessly as his guts and blood pooled on the ground, and his eyes begged for you to put him out of his misery. Your hands shook, picturing the way Daryl's were steady as he aimed down, and you kept hearing the coldness in his voice as he said 'sorry, brother' over and over until you wanted to scream or cry or fight. 

"Why did you do that?" you yelled at Daryl, shoving him with both hands. "Why?" You'd chosen two of the three options, apparently.

He staggered back a step, looking confused. "What the hell? 'Cause it needed to be done, girl!" 

"Of course it did! But why the fuck did you do it? Jesus, Daryl!" you shouted wildly, coming at him again. Why? Why had he taken the gun from you; why had he taken that on himself? He was better than you. He wasn't like you and Merle, made cold and hard and at ease with the darker side of things. He didn't know what clammy skin felt like or how clean a crime scene or the amount of heft it took to tip a body going stiff into an incinerator. He didn't know about things like missing persons posters with faces you recognized or driving at an exact speed to avoid being pulled. He was better than that. He was clean.

He dodged your hands and grabbed you by the elbows as you struck out at him blindly, wildly, guilt making you lash out at him. He held you away from him with his hands on your arms, keeping you at bay easily. You were freakishly strong, yes; but he was too. You struggled for a minute, then slumped in his arms, eyes filling with tears. 

Why hadn't you been strong enough to keep this off of him? Why did you have to ruin everyone you loved? 

He stared at you intensely before giving you little shake. "Why the hell ya yellin' at me about this, YN?" he snapped. 

You looked blankly at the ground, not seeing dirt and twigs, but instead a series of blood stained floors and plastic wrapped bodied and hands slipping hundred dollar bills into pockets while the hands' owners kept their eyes averted. 

You didn't answer for a long time, thinking about latex on your hands and sweat rolling down your back and the thudding of your heart in the darkness of a twisting back road. Thinking about the way Daryl wouldn't meet your eyes when you dropped Merle off when he woke up the morning after your first disposal- or maybe it was you who wouldn't meet his. 

"You're better than me, Daryl," you finally whispered. "You don't do the shit I've done. Shit I do. It should have been me, damn it. You don't need this shit on your hands; don't need the weight of it bringing you down. You've always been the best of us; why'd you take that gun from me? I should have done it. Fuck you; you should have let me do it." Your voice caught on a sob as you finished speaking, and you wouldn't meet his eyes when he tried to get you too. 

He scoffed, letting you go to pace a few steps away and look out beyond you at the farmhouse. "Ya think my hands're clean, girl? Just cause I ain't in ya damn club? Shit. Who ya think put ya foster dad in the ground?" 

Wait. What? 

"What the hell are you talking about, Daryl?" you asked, staring at him in complete confusion. 

He tossed his head and laughed harshly. "Ya act like I don't know shit about club life. I weren't in the club, naw. But ya really think I'd let him get away with what he tried to do and live? Shit. He fuckin' terrorized ya. I had blood on my hands before Merle even left; before you even got deep into shit!" 

You stood there, eyes wide, not knowing what to do with what you were hearing. Before you could start to string a coherent thought together that didn't consist solely of 'what the actual fuck?', he'd grabbed your arms and gotten all up in your face again. You looked at him from absurdly close, his eyes so dark in the moonlight they looked black. But you knew those eyes; knew every fleck of color and every swirl of emotion, but right now- right now you couldn't figure out what you were seeing in them as he gave you another rattle and glared at you. 

"It ain't the morality of shit that I was ever concerned about, baby. It's seein' ya hurt. Seein' the look you got right now, all wide-eyed and fuckin' guilty. Dumbass, ya think I don't know ya fucked up six ways from Sunday right now? Ya think I ain't seen what the army did to Merle? That's all I fuckin' cared about, girl. Ever! Damn it." He let go of you but didn't move back, shoving one hand into his hair even as he curled the other around the back of your neck and turned his hot glare back toward the house. 

"I- I don't even- what's happening right now?" you muttered. 

"Merle told me he was lookin' for ya. We handled it," he snapped. "Part of why I ain't ever joined the damn club. Don't regret it for a minute, takin' that asshole scum out. But I didn't want that to be my whole fucking life."

"But you were so angry when I started getting into the illegal shit," you protested, trying to reconcile the past decade of your life with what he was telling you now. Daryl was the good one. The innocent one. He was the one who stayed above board and kept his hands clean.

He snorted now. "'Cause I didn't want ya going down the same path Merle did. Couldn't stand the idea that you'd end up in a cell or in a damn hole in the ground or runnin' off to war and comin' back fucked up like he did." 

You pressed your hands to your eyes and shook your head again. "All this damn time, Daryl. Hell, you called me a killer in the quarry." 

"I know. I's- baby, look. Leavin' ya was the hardest damn thing I ever did, and I've been regrettin' it ever since. Probably noticed I ain't the best with emotions and shit," he added, and you snorted. 

"I noticed."

"Yeah. I had too much fuckin' pride to come crawlin' back like I should have, especially after seein' ya a few times after. You were so damn angry, but I knew well enough it weren't just that. Didn't think I'd ever have a chance at fixin' what I broke, so it jut got easier to be fuckin' pissed back at ya." 

You opened your eyes and sighed. "I can't even wrap my mind around this, I swear. All this time, and.... Fuck. Hell, you still should have let me handle Dale."

"Ain't gonna let ya do shit that'll break ya, baby," he said with a grim look your way, pulling you in to lean against him with the hand still resting on the back of your neck. You tucked your face into his neck with a sigh. "Ya ain't alone," he whispered into your hair. 

You nodded, smiling faintly despite everything still churning inside you. "I know."

 

 

"He's such a damn dick, Daryl," you muttered, eyes closed. "Always tryin' to touch me when I was little. Damn pacing outside my door. Still wake up at twelve fuckin' thirty every night."

"I know," he answered, shifting you a little where you leaned into him. "Hey. Ya pass out, I'm gonna toss you over my shoulder and haul ya ass inside that way." 

You laughed a bit, but staying on your feet was fucking hard. "Just want to sit down." 

"Soon. Almost there. Damn it, where the fuck's Merle?"

"Right here, little brother. Jesus, she's trashed, ain't she?" Merle laughed, grabbing your other arm. "Got ya, girlie." 

"Better. Your fault," you said with a giggle. 

"How ya figure that?" Merle asked, sounding offended. 

"'Cause, 'cause- you kept saying how I should talk. And I didn't want to talk. Wanted to drink. So I did," you finished, presenting your argument triumphantly as you finally got your eyes open. "Hey, this is my building!" 

"Yeah, it is. Let's get you inside and in bed," Daryl grunted, grabbing the door and opening it. 

You started laughing uncontrollably again. "No, no, no. I don't fuck you guys. That'd make her right, and she wasn't right. Fuckin' bitch sister didn't believe me about that asshole. Said I was fucking both of you. Called me a slut. Hey, he did too! And said I was fucking all three of you, even Will. I heard you," you told Daryl matter of factly. 

He and Merle exchanged a look over your shoulder. "Didn't mean into bed like that, baby," Daryl said finally. "When did you hear me?" 

"Both of you. Night we got here. Heard you talking. Never really thanked you like I should've. For saving me. Both of you. Daryl punched him," you informed Merle, in a conspiratorial whisper. 

"Daryl did more than punch him, baby girl," Merle said with a feral gleam in his eyes, and you widened your own as you leaned toward him. 

"He did? What else did he do?" 

"Oh, I don't think ya need to know that, darlin'," he said firmly. "Come on, now, we're at ya door. Need ya keys, girl." 

"Oh," you frowned as you tried to remember. "Ah! My pocket!" 

"Which pocket?" Merle asked, amused. His laugh set you off even as you shrugged. 

"I don't know! I'll see-" you pulled an arm off Merle's shoulders and went staggering to the side, into Daryl. He caught you and held you up and you grabbed onto him with both hands. You smiled up into his concerned eyes. 

"Saved me again," you whispered. "Always saving me. So damn strong. My hero. Hope you two fuckin' killed him. Asshole." 

"Aight, aight. Shut up, girl, and let me find ya keys," Daryl muttered, cheeks turning red. He fished them out of your pocket as Merle laughed, tossing them to Merle as he turned you around and got you back steady on your feet. 

"Ain't no hero, baby," he whispered as he pulled your shoes off while you lay back on your bed and laughed at nothing. He pulled the blankets over you and touched your cheek. You smiled up at his serious eyes, getting a little lost in the way he was looking at you. 

"Just ain't never gonna let anyone hurt ya again. Promise."

 

 

"In the end, he was talking about losing our humanity. He said this group is broken. The best way to honor him is to unbreak it," Rick said, the end of a long eulogy for Dale. "Set aside our differences and pull together. Stop feeling sorry for ourselves. Take control of our lives. Our safety. Our future. We're not broken. We're gonna prove him wrong. From now on, we're going to do it his way. That is how we honor Dale." 

It'd been a long damn day. Burying Dale hadn't even been the first task on the list, not for you and Daryl and Shane and Andrea anyway. That had been a tense ride in a dead man's truck, and both Shane and Daryl had given you concerned looks when you'd jumped in the bed instead of in the driver's seat. 

There wasn't any way in hell you were driving that thing again. 

You walked fences with a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. Both Daryl and Shane kept eyeing you, until you were ready to scream. Andrea kept rolling her eyes and making snide comments, but all three of you ignored her. She'd sort of invited herself on this expedition, after all. 

You'd found four walkers eating one of Hershel's cattle. Poor bastard cow was still alive, and the sound of its desperate moos broke your heart. While the others went ape shit on the walkers, you side stepped over to the animal and ended its misery as you stroked its nose. Then it was back to your feet, staggering over to see Andrea and Shane kicking the shit out of the last walker. 

You snatched Daryl's loaded crossbow from his hands where he stood watching them. You aimed without saying a word and took out the walker from where you were. Then you handed him back the bow as he studied your face and jumped into the truck bed impatiently, their eyes lingering on you. 

You'd checked Hershel's entire property line, then made it back in time for the funeral. 

 

 

Rick wanted you all moved into Hershel's house, which sounded like hell to you. Fourteen people packed into one farmhouse? The house might have been sprawling and spacious, but you'd lived in a group home before. 

Fourteen people in any space made it downright claustrophobic, but both Hershel and Rick insisted. 

"Alright," Rick declared. "Let's move the cars up to each of the doors, facing out toward the road. Build a lookout in the windmill and another in the barn loft. That should give us sight lines on both sides of the property. T Dog, take the perimeter around the house, keep track of everyone coming and going." 

People were loading shit into the bed of Otis' truck, getting ready to move camp into the house. You and Daryl had already given into the inevitable, and the smaller camp was broken down with ease. Wasn't like you really had a lot of shit to pack, after all. Biggest thing had been wheeling Merle's bike back. 

"See? Freakishly strong," Glenn had said as you walked it up the road with Daryl. You'd flashed him an appreciative grin, even if you knew there was no way in hell you'd have been able to move that bitch that far by yourself. 

Rick was firing out orders and instructions left and right, and you were handing people things or having things handed to you as he did, listening in for any direct orders. It was nice to hear him taking charge with such confidence, and the fact that everything he was saying made sense was even better. 

"Once we get this area secure, Shane'll assign patrol shifts while Daryl, YN, and I take Randall up the road, cut him loose," he finished, and you glanced at Shane. 

"Mind the asshole, Walsh," you muttered as you heaved a crate into the backseat and he tilted his head and set his jaw. He glared at you, but he tempered what he'd been about to say. 

"We're back to that now?" 

"Good man," you said, patting his shoulder. "Don't really have another choice do we?" you said a little louder. 

"No, we don't," Rick agreed. "Right plan first time around. Poor execution." 

"Well, Deputy, I'd say that's a bit of an understatement," you said with a grin, and both men shot you looks. 

Lori thought that was funny, though. You hadn't talked to her a lot, but she seemed to have gotten over her initial distrust of you enough to send an amused grin your way behind their backs. So there was that. 

"Look, you want to take them as your wingmen, be my guest. Nameless is good to have at your back," Shane said finally. "I don't agree, but- guess I'm overruled." 

"Yeah, you are," Rick muttered, and everyone went back to packing.


	40. Police & Theives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

"Hey, Officer. Why don't you get a spotter next time?" you called up to Shane, standing arms crossed and hip cocked up at him. He was clinging to the windmill with one hand and hammering boards into place with the other. 

"I'd flip you off, but I like being alive," he shot back without turning. 

"Yeah, yeah. Seriously, though, you ok up there?" 

He glanced down at you. "Why the fuck wouldn't I be?" 

"Do you build shit while pulling a monkey routine regularly enough to be comfortable with it?" you asked, grinning at him. 

You could practically feel him roll his eyes. "You don't need to check up on my hammering skills," he said, letting the hammer dangle as he looked down at you and smirked. "Either kind."

"Asshole," you said easily. "Didn't come out here to flirt." 

"Could always change your mind about that," he replied with a wink.

You rolled your eyes and leaned back against his car. "Get your ass down here, would you? Want to talk to you." 

He sighed, but set his hammer down on the boards and started making his way down. When he hit the ground he came over to you, resting one elbow on his Hyundai. "What's up, Nameless?" 

"Just checking on you, honestly," you answered with a shrug. We haven't had a chance to talk since I took a damn gun from you out there. I need to know if you were planning on using that thing or not." 

He glared at you, shoving off the car to get up in your face. "That what you think?" 

"I think everybody snaps sometimes," you shot back, not moving. He loomed over you, bruised face still hard. "Just remember, I've kicked your ass twice now," you told him dryly. 

He scoffed and stepped back from you. "Wouldn't have shot at him. That's my friend, damn it." 

You shrugged. "Yeah, he is, though you two certainly don't act much like it these days. Can't blame me for wondering." 

"Hell yes I can," he shot back. 

"Shane," you said quietly. "Look, much as it pains me to admit it considering how we met, you're my friend, ok? I'm just trying to help you." 

He looked away from you, tightening his jaw and rubbing a hand over his head with a sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, I ain't happy about it either, Nameless. But I don't exactly have a lot of people I can call friends here, do I?"

"Not right now, dude," you agreed with a smirk. "Especially since you've managed to piss Andrea off by still hanging out with me." 

Shane grimaced. "Yeah, she's gotten a little much, ain't she? I appreciate the concern, Nameless. I'm fine, though. Rick's the boss." 

You eyed him for a minute before nodding. "Glad you two came to an agreement. What about Lori and the baby?"

"That baby's mine," Shane snapped. "I'm gonna talk it over with Rick later. I don't- I don't need a lot, alright? Lori- Lori isn't mine. I get it. Carl either. But that baby is. Just want him to acknowledge that. Let me have some part of it." 

You thought about that as he looked out toward the house, eyes sad. Finally you nodded. "I think you should give it a few days, Officer. Toe the line and keep your shit together. Then talk to him- calmly and like a friend. Keep the asshole away." 

"We weren't like this before," Shane said quietly. "Known him since high school. We had disagreements, but never shit like this. Punched each other a few times, sure. Not the same though. Then he got shot, the world went to shit, and everything got fucked up." He ran a hand over his head again. "Wish I could take it all back." 

You touched his arm. "I know." 

"It- it was real. But I never looked at her like that before. I told him that and it's the damn truth. She was his wife. Didn't see her as anything else until I thought she was his widow, and we- we both needed something. I look at her now and it just about breaks my damn heart. I love her, but I know she doesn't love me," he said. He glanced at the road and sighed. "And here she comes, probably to stomp on my heart some more. I'll keep it together, Nameless. If only 'cause I want to meet my little boy or girl." 

You glanced up the road and saw Lori approaching. "Want me to stay?" you asked. 

"Naw. Head on back up there. Rick's going to need you at his back." Shane offered you a slight smile. "If I can't watch his ass, I need you to." 

You smirked. "Might have watched your ass as you came down that ladder." 

"Figured," he said, winking at you. 

You laughed and kissed his cheek, heading back toward the farmhouse as Lori reached you. She hesitated and you smiled at her, but didn't stop to say anything. If she wanted to know about that, she could ask Shane.

 

 

"Take him out to Senoi. Hour there, hour back. Give or take. We may lose the light, but we'll be halfway home by then," Rick said, pointing to the map. He and Daryl were bent over the railing as you ducked out of the house, and you leaned against the wall and grinned. 

"Well, ain't that a view," you drawled heavily, and both of them looked back. Daryl scowled at you, but Rick's lips twitched. 

"There you are. Wondered where you ran off to," he said as you came over. 

"Oh, here and there. Doing shit," you said with a shrug. "Shane needs a damn spotter out there," you said with a jerk of your head toward where you could see Lori walking back toward the house and Shane heading back up the windmill. 

Rick's eyes followed Lori and you sighed.

"Look, Deputy? Either you trust him or you don't. Make up your mind, man," you said flatly. Rick shifted uncomfortably, and Daryl leaned against one of the pillars and didn't say a word. 

"He'll be fine up there. Shane's a better handyman than me. Though I still say him fixing our sink is why the basement flooded," Rick muttered. 

You snorted and bumped his shoulder with yours. "Good man. So, hour out and back?" 

"Yeah. Then this little pain in the ass will be a distant memory," Daryl commented. "Good riddance." 

"Carol's putting together some provisions for him, enough to last a few days." Rick hesitated, then looked at Daryl seriously. "What you did last night-" 

Daryl waved him off. "Ain't no reason you two should have to do all the heavy lifting," he muttered. 

You pressed your lips together, still angry about that, and Daryl ran a hand down your am. 

"Settle down, baby. I told ya, weren't my first time. Probably won't be the last," he muttered, and Rick eyed the two of you like he wanted to ask but knew he was better off not. 

"So are you two ok with this?" Rick asked finally. 

Daryl snorted. "Don't see you and me trading haymakers on the side of the road. Nobody'd win that fight." 

"I'd win that fight, since I'd beat both your asses before you'd done more than swing once," you snapped, rolling your eyes. 

They grinned at each other. "She would," Rick agreed. "Got our guns away from me and Shane. Stepped right into the middle of it." 

"Yeah, she's a tough bitch," Daryl said with a smirk your way. 

You rolled your eyes again and looked at Rick seriously. "I'll do what you say, Rick. But- and this is just for argument's sake-" you said, holding up a hand placatingly "- are you absolutely sure this is the right call? I mean, it's a lot of trouble. Taking three people away from the farm, using fuel and resources. I'm with you no matter what, but Rick- if it's just about not being able to pull the trigger yourself, I'll do it." 

Rick gave you a hard look. "What about not liking killing people?" 

"I don't," you said with a shrug. "But I can do it. I can do a lot of things I don't like. Rick, I can be your bad guy if that's what's needed to keep the group strong and alive." 

"It's not," Rick said softly, resting a hand on your shoulder. "And you aren't a bad guy. Neither of you are. I might not have paused long enough to see past your unusual exteriors before all this went down, but the dead rising has taught me to look beyond how people seem at first glance. You two are good people. Little rough around the edges, but I can work with that," he said with a small smile. 

You rolled your eyes, but you were oddly touched. "Yeah, whatever, Deputy Do Good." 

Shane drove up, getting out of the Hyundai and walking over with a conflicted expression. Daryl glanced between Shane and you and Rick and muttered about taking a piss. He walked off as Shane reached the porch, nodded at you, and looked up at Rick seriously. 

"You seen Carl lately?" he asked. 

Rick jerked his head toward the house. "He's inside with his mother." 

"I wasn't supposed to say anything, but he came to me earlier. Said he saw a walker, stuck in the mud, out in the swamps. Got scared, ran off," Shane said. 

"Same walker that killed Dale?" Rick asked. 

"That's the one," Shane agreed. You sighed, rubbing your eyes. 

"I'll have Lori talk to him," Rick said, and Shane interrupted, shaking his head. 

"Look, man, I think- I think he wants to talk to his father," Shane said seriously. 

"Well, I need this Randall thing done already," Rick snapped. 

You grabbed his arm. "Rick. This needs to wait. Your kid needs you more than this asshole needs to be let loose, ok?" 

"I can ride out with them," Shane offered, and Rick's eyes flashed as he refused. Shane sighed and reached into his pocket. He handed you a gun. 

"Carl gave this to me. Took it from Daryl's bike. Make sure it gets back to him, ok?" he said. 

You held the thing and turned your attention to Rick, raising both eyebrows as he stared at the gun in your hand. 

"Fine!" he snapped, taking it from you. "Fine. I'll go talk to Carl." 

You patted his hand gently and kissed his cheek. "Good idea, Deputy." 

 

 

You went wandering around, looking for Daryl or Shane or something to do. Hell, if you could use a wrench, you could swing a hammer, right? But Shane wasn't back at the lookout platform he'd been building. He'd gotten it three quarters of the way done, though, you so you climbed up and took a scan around the farm. 

Rick had been right, sight lines this way were pretty great. So great, you could see that there was no one guarding the kid. Son of a bitch, you thought. 

You scrambled back down and headed over at a jog. Guess you were on guard duty, then. You leaned against the wall of the shed, fairly certain there was nothing to be guarding and you were wasting your time until Rick was ready to go.

Boy were you wrong.


	41. Exit Light Enter Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> minor character death (cannon)  
> implied threat of rape/non con

Somehow, the kid got loose.

You really weren't sure how he'd managed that, or- more importantly as you walked along in front of him- how the fuck he'd gotten the drop on you. You might have fallen asleep, and if that was the case then he could just kill you out here and be fucking done with it. No way in hell you could live with falling asleep while you were supposed to be watching a prisoner. 

He'd slipped his cuffs, tearing up his wrists to do it, and then broken out of the shed. When he'd clicked the hammer back on your own damn gun and you'd opened your eyes slowly to see him standing there smirking at you, you'd glanced at the door before he'd grabbed the second gun from your holster and tossed his blindfold to you. The lock was on and in place, so you were betting he'd found some rotten boards or something. 

That's what you would have done, after all. 

Wandering through the woods blindfolded and with your hands tied while some prick kid babbled about being let back into his group since he'd come back with a prize and threatened you with your own guns wasn't doing much for your temper. 

"Hey, kid?" you snapped finally. "Shut the fuck up. Look, leave me here. You're free and you've got my guns. Just go." 

"No," he said. "You tried to kill me. Twice! I'm gonna take you back. They'll like you. Probably let you in. You know, after a little punishment. Maybe I'll get a turn." 

You rolled your eyes behind the blindfold, and stopped dead in your tracks. "Kid, believe me- I'd eat you alive before that happened." 

"Why the fuck you stopping? Come on, walk!" he half-yelled. 

"Nope," you said with a shrug. "I'm not going any further. You'll have to shoot me." 

You heard him step closer, then felt the gun prod into your shoulder. 

"I'll do it!" the kid declared, and you smiled. 

"No, you won't," you said, and your hands shot out, slapping the gun to the side as you spun and lashed out with your foot. 

The gun went off and you winced, but there was no pain in your shoulder, so you'd knocked it out of the way. Your foot connected and the kid let out a cry of pain, and you completed the kick and grabbed at the blindfold with your bound hands. 

You could take this kid out without hands, but he had your other gun. You needed eyes. 

You tossed the blindfold away and there he was, fumbling as he tried to pull the other gun from his pants. You snarled and charged at him, bringing your bound hands down like a club onto the kid's head. He screamed and you kicked again, into his still injured leg, and he went down. 

You were on him in a flash, pinning him like you'd pinned Shane. Only this time, you kept the pressure on his neck. He bucked and squirmed, but if Officer Walsh couldn't move you, there was no way this kid could. You closed your eyes and leaned into your arm on his neck, until you didn't feel him scrambling anymore. 

Then you staggered to your feet, leaned against a tree, and threw up everything you'd eaten in the past few days. 

 

 

You walked out of the trees in a daze, hands still bound. You had your guns back, one in the holster and one in your hands, but you'd picked up a long scrape on your cheek from scrambling round in the dirt trying to find them. You had a few other scrapes and gouges on your arms from wandering the woods blindfolded as well. 

You came out near the shed, because you were better in the fucking woods than Daryl ever gave you credit for, and saw literally the entire group streaming in and out of the shed. You sighed and leaned on a tree for a minute, fucking ashamed that the kid had gotten the drop on you. 

Shane saw you first and yelled Rick's name as he came running toward you. He grabbed your face in his hands, turning you to get a look at your cheek. "What the fuck happened to you? Jesus, Nameless!" 

"I'm fine," you snapped as Daryl got there four steps ahead of Rick and everyone else. 

"The hell, girl," Daryl snarled, and you sighed. 

"Someone want to help me out here?" you snapped, holding up your still-bound hands. Daryl yanked his knife as Shane started scanning the woods, cutting through the duct tape that the kid had wound around your wrists. "Kid got out somehow. I was outside the shed, but- I must have fallen asleep. My own dumbass fault. He got my guns, made me blindfold myself, was marching me out to rejoin his people. I got sick of him running his damn mouth and got him down." You shrugged, shaking your wrists and rolling your shoulders once your hands were free. 

"That shot we heard," Rick said grimly. 

"Yeah, that was him. Anyway. He's dead. Sorry, Rick," you told him, meeting his eyes past Daryl's worried ones. 

"Don't apologize. Had no choice," Rick said grimly. 

You nodded once. Daryl hadn't moved from in front of you, and now he was tilting your head like Shane had, his fingers gentle under your chin. 

"He give ya this?" 

"Please," you muttered. "I got that tripping while looking for my guns. Kid only got me anywhere because I fell asleep like an idiot." 

"Ya ain't slept well in days. Stop beatin' yourself up," Daryl snapped. 

You rolled your eyes and focused back on Rick even as Daryl grabbed his bandanna from his back pocket and started dabbing at your cheek. "Rick, there's more. Asshole wouldn't shut up the whole time we were out there. He held out on me and Daryl, which is actually impressive. I'm very through. He said he didn't know if they were still there, but his people had a camp on the side of the highway, about five miles out. We need to handle that; it's close enough to draw them here." 

"Shit," Shane snarled. "Rick?" 

"Yeah, yeah," Rick said. "Alright. It's almost sunset."

"Rick, this needs to be handled tonight. The four of us need to try to find it," you argued. "He was babbling awhile. Trust me, we need to know now if these people are on our doorstep." 

Shane stalked back over and gave you a serious look. "What'd he say?" 

"Talked a lot of shit about his group, that's all. Said he was taking me back with him so they'd let him back in. Said they'd like me a lot; maybe even let me join. After," you added, glancing at Daryl. 

He snarled and rounded on Rick. "We're goin', Rick. Now." 

"After what?" Shane asked, and you looked at him, eyebrows lifted. His eyes darkened and he nodded. "I'm with Dixon, Rick," he snapped. 

Rick sighed. "Alright. Glenn, T Dog, Andrea- get everyone back in the house. We'll see if we can find this place." 

"Daryl should be able to follow his tracks pretty easily," you said with a nod his way. "Then we just keep heading in the same direction." 

 

 

Dark fell as you headed into the woods, the three of you following Daryl. He used a flashlight to follow the path the kid had taken you, tracking him easily even in the dark. You recognized some of the trees you passed, including the one with fresh blood on it that you'd stumbled into on the way by. Daryl's flashlight had lingered on that blood for long enough that you started to get worried about what might happen if you did find these friends of Randall's. 

He'd taken you further out than you'd realized, even making your way back on your own. Finally you came out into a clearing that looked familiar enough. 

"This is where I stopped," you said softly, then looked around in confusion. "Wait- his body should be here. Where-?" 

You broke off as you heard the sharp snap of a branch breaking. All four of you had your weapons up and were aiming as the zombie formerly known as Randall came stumbling into the clearing, heading straight for you like his lizard brain wanted revenge. Your eyes were wide and something in the back of your mind was screaming at you that he shouldn't be coming toward you at all, but your finger pulled the trigger steadily despite that. Randall hit the ground and you turned to the men with you. 

"What the fuck, guys. I strangled him. Why did his zombie just come at me?" 

"He must- he must not have been dead when you left. Must have gotten bit after," Shane said, eyeing Randall. 

Daryl was on one knee, looking over the walker. "Naw, man, I don't see any bites or scratches. What the hell?" 

"Shane, I know when someone's dead. Trust me, I've probably seen more dead bodies than-" you broke off with a muffled 'what the hell?' as Rick's hand wrapped around your mouth. 

"Everybody, shut up. Shut up and move. We need to get back to the farm," Rick hissed. Shane and Daryl stared at him, but your eyes went wide as you saw what Rick saw, up ahead and through the trees. 

Walkers. A whole fucking bunch of them. Yeah, it was time for you to go. 

 

 

You took off back toward the farm, all of you running. Walkers were coming from all different directions, and you wondered where the fuck they'd all come from. Didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that they'd heard your gunshot, though. 

You were cursing yourself for not letting Daryl take the shot or just using your knife, but mistakes seemed to be all that were in the cards for you today, damn it. And then, because of course you did, your foot hit a hole and you went crashing down to the forest floor, adding several fun new bruises and probably a whole host of scrapes, since you hit a fucking bush on the way down. 

"Nameless, get the fuck on your feet," Shane's voice came out of the darkness, and he reached down a hand to haul you up. 

The minute you stood, you knew you were fucked. "Shit. Shane," you hissed, shoving at him frantically. "Go, go." 

"The hell you say. Come on," Shane snapped, watching the trees behind you as the movement started to show in the darkness. 

"No, I- Shane, I fucked up my ankle." 

Shane chuckled as he shot you a look, but there was no amusement in either. "Aww, we been here before, sweetheart."

"Yeah, and we had to sacrifice a man to get fucking out of this shit. Go, damn you," you snapped, shoving at him as he wrapped an arm around your waist. 

"Won't do any such thing. Daryl'd kill me if I came back to that house without you," he answered, hustling you along over your protests. "Let's go. They went the other way around a couple trees awhile back, so it's just you and me, ok? We can do this." 

"Shit," you muttered, clenching your teeth as you leaned into him. "We're going to die, you idiot." 

 

 

You didn't die, but it was a near thing several times. By the time the two of you made it out of the woods and into the field near the barn, you'd been cut off and shoved off track enough times that even you had no freaking clue where you were. As soon as you saw the barn, you let out a relieved breath. 

"Thank God," you muttered. 

"Don't thank anybody just yet, Nameless," Shane grunted with a glance behind you. "We're ahead, but only by a few feet." 

You looked over your shoulder, Shane still pulling you along. "God fucking damn it!" you snapped. 

"Barn?" he suggested, and you looked around as more walkers poured out of the trees from either side of you. 

"Seems like our choice," you agreed. "Shane, you should leave me." 

"Shut the fuck up." 

"Someone needs to get to the house and warn them. I'll go for the barn. Leave me here and haul ass up there. We don't know if Rick and Daryl made it back. If they didn't, everyone there is sitting ducks," you snapped, stopping.

"No. I won't do it," Shane snarled at you. "Keep your fucking ass moving." 

You did, but only because if you stopped, neither of you would survive. "Shane, damn it. We're the best two people to be in this boat again. I can make the barn. It's your turn to leave me behind to save my ass. Go, get them in the cars and moving- there's no way we can beat this herd, man- and come back for me. I'll find a way to the back, ok? Just- just goddamn go!"

He didn't respond, just gave a snort and kept moving. Finally, you snapped. You grabbed his shirt and hauled him to face you. "Shane fucking Walsh, if you don't leave me here and go save those people, I will kill you myself. We are the only people here strong enough to handle shit like this, Officer. You, me, Daryl, and Rick, and Rick and Daryl might be dead. If they are, it is on your shoulders to rescue Lori and Carl again, ok? Now, run!" 

You shoved him away, toward the house, and took off toward the barn as fast as you could with your ankle twisted. You didn't look back to see if he did what he was told, because you knew he would. You'd seen it in his eyes when you'd mentioned Lori and Carl. 

Shane would do what needed to be done for them.


	42. Better To Burn Out Than Fade Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

You fumbled out your gun and your knife as you stumble-jumped your way to the barn, and it was a good thing too. You managed to duck several of them, but you tripped a couple yards from the barn, going down when you hit the twisted ankle wrong. 

You rolled with it, no stranger to falls, but when you came back up there was one practically on top of you. You knifed him, pulling the blade back out of his eye with a wet squelch and a grunt, and kept running. You'd lost the gun you'd had drawn, though; like an idiot. 

But you made it to the barn, slamming the repaired doors and running a single bar through them just in time. Fingers started scratching and bodies started stacking up against the doors almost immediately, and you knew if they hadn't held up under the number of walkers trapped inside, they sure wouldn't last against the ones outside either. 

"Fuck me sideways," you muttered under your breath, casting a frantic look around the barn to see what you had to work with. Something, anything, to buy some more time. You could- and would- get your ass into the hayloft, but you'd already seen in Atlanta that they could climb, at least in a limited capacity. So you'd need something to keep them from following you up there right away. 

Then you saw it. 

"Ha! I can work with that," you said, feeling something like hope. "Walsh, you better get your ass to that house and get me an exit." 

 

You dumped the gas all along the hay-strewn floor, glancing at the rattling barn doors as you did. 

"Come on, baby, hold out just a bit longer," you muttered, sloshing a second can around. Boards were already starting to get broken and arms were reaching inside, fingers clawing at nothing as the dead caught your scent. 

"Ok," you said to yourself. "Ok. As ready as I'll ever be." 

You planted yourself just in front of the hayloft ladder, so you could be up in a hurry. You pulled your lighter from your pocket, glad as hell that you'd kept the damn thing in your pants and not in your jacket. You took a deep breath and started yelling. 

"Dixon better still be alive so he can get my goddamn jacket from Merle's bike!" you screamed, for no reason other than you were thinking it, and hell, you needed to get them stirred up somehow. 

The walkers started slamming against the doors even harder, growls intensifying as more of their kin caught on that something alive was in there. The bar across the door snapped, the crack echoing in your ears like the voice of God, and dead assholes were running right for you. 

"Oh, shit, I forgot how fast you fuckers were!" you yelled, hauling ass up the ladder and kicking it backwards before you'd even gotten your legs under you well. Walkers filled the barn, and you clicked the lighter on and tossed it down with a silent prayer. 

 

 

Zombies burned nicely even when they were quasi-alive, you discovered quickly, but unfortunately so did hay and old wood. You backed toward the loading window, heading out onto the overhang. There were a shit ton of the fuckers still milling around down there, and you didn't want to bring the rest of them straight to you by lighting up the ones here. Plus, you only had one gun, which meant only one magazine, and for the life of you, you could not remember how many rounds that meant. 

"Come on, Walsh," you whispered, anxiously. Then over the flames and walker moans, you heard shooting and the golden sound of Merle's damn Triumph. You smiled, because that meant Daryl was alive. 

Or someone was driving Merle's bike who didn't know what they were doing. "If anybody wrecks that thing, I'm going to kill them!" you declared to the walkers below you. 

Maybe the officers were right; you did pick odd times to bitch about things. 

Speaking of the officers, the RV chose that moment to come swinging around the corner, Shane behind the wheel looking pissed the fuck off. 

"Yes!" you hissed, bringing your gun up and starting to pick walkers off as he pulled closer. He kicked out the driver's window as a bunch of walkers immediately swarmed the thing. You jumped from the loading window to the roof, then tossed yourself over the edge of the Winnebago. You hit hard but correctly, tucking and rolling again before springing up to find Shane covering you at your side. 

"Let's go, damn it!" he declared, and you tossed your arm over his shoulders without him having to say anything. Each of you had a gun in one hand and the other arm wrapped around each other, and you were picking them off as you made your way back toward the house. 

"This feels a little too familiar, Officer!" you yelled, and he laughed. 

"No shit, Nameless. We gotta stop meeting like this." 

You grinned as you dropped another one and you suddenly had a few yards of clear space. You picked up the pace as you panted out a response. "Who the fuck's on Merle's bike? Better be Daryl." 

"Yeah, it's him. He almost fuckin' killed me for leaving you behind, by the way. Got that crossbow right between the eyes until he saw the barn go up. Now shut up and move, there's another a couple more cars at the house. Hope they run." 

"What the hell do you think I've been doing since we got here, asshole?" you ground out, ignoring as best you could the way your ankle felt like it was on fire with every step. "Every vehicle here will purr like a fuckin' kitten." 

Shane laughed, and the two of you kept moving through the chaos. 

 

 

"Hey, Officer, I'm out," you told him moments later, and he grunted. 

"Almost there. Just keep moving." 

"Shane, you ditch me if you have to," you told him seriously. He didn't say a word, and you pulled your knife back out with a shake of your head as you came around the corner of the house. 

You let out a relieved exhale when you saw the truck waiting for you. "Oh, yeah. Hope you got ammo, Officer. Ill drive; you keep them off us." 

"Got another magazine in my pocket," he answered, and his gun clicked as he tried to fire again. "Good thing, too." 

"Yep. Take shotgun, Officer." You unwrapped your arm from around him, turning and plunging your knife through the eye of a walker who came out of nowhere, as Shane wrenched open the door of the Greene family's '89 Ranger. So far, you hadn't seen anyone so much as turn the damn thing on the whole time you'd been there, but you'd been under the hood a few times. 

It'd start; you were certain of it. 

Shane ran around the hood, reloading as he went, and popped off four more of the walkers as he paused at the door. You hit the horn impatiently, and Shane jumped it. 

"Will it start?" he asked, eyeing the oncoming tide. 

You turned the key and the engine roared to life. "Where to, Officer Walsh?" 

"Shut the fuck up and drive, Nameless." 

 

You drove. You drove through the rest of the night, not that there was much left of it. The herd was so damn fucking large that you kept getting cut off and having to try different roads. 

"Hey, Walsh, where the fuck are we even going?" you declared finally in frustration, a couple hours and multiple dead ends into the trip. You had no supplies, not a lot of gas, and only one gun and one magazine between you. 

"Shit, Nameless. How the fuck should I know?" Shane snapped. 

You tossed the truck in park and cut the engine, rubbing a hand over your eyes tiredly and tipping your head back against the headrest. "Ok. We've got to think about this logically. Where would any of our people go if they made it out?" 

He stared at you blankly. Then he ran his hand along over his head. His hair was starting to grow in, you noticed absently. 

"Rick- Rick would go somewhere he thinks everyone would know to go," Shane said after a minute. "Probably back to the highway." 

"Where they left the supplies for Sophia," you agreed. "Makes sense. Would make more sense if that had been an articulated plan, damn it." 

"Yeah, except it's back in the other direction, where that big ass herd came from," Shane protested, ignoring your bitching in favor of the more relevant information. 

You shrugged. "It's the only thing makes sense. And besides, if the herd came from there, that means it's passed through there already, right? So it's going the other way."

He grunted. "That logic don't feel right, girl, but whatever you say."


	43. Jailbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> minor character death (cannon)

You put the truck in park up the highway from that traffic snag. 

"Look alive, Walsh," you said, reaching over and slapping his shoulder lightly. He'd fallen asleep about three false starts and one bowling-for-zombies moment ago. You'd let him sleep, figuring he probably wasn't going to get another chance any time soon. 

You ignored the fact that your ankle was throbbing and your eyes were burning from exhaustion. You'd been in rougher shape and still gotten the job done before. 

Granted, there was nothing that immediately sprang to mind, but still. 

"We here?" Shane asked, blinking himself from sound asleep to fully awake at the drop of a hat the same way Merle did when he was sober. In Merle it was an army-taught skill. In the officer, you thought it might have been a zombie-taught one. 

"Walking from here, Officer," you told him. "We need to come in quiet, just in case our hunches are wrong and there are a bunch of dead assholes instead of our merry band of living ones." 

He eyed you sideways. "That ankle gonna hold up?" 

"It's gonna have to," you told him with a grin. "It doesn't have a choice." 

 

 

You hobbled along fairly well, grateful for Shane's supportive shoulder. Seriously, what had your life come to, leaning on cops all the damn time? You chuckled softly at the thought and he shot you a look. 

"Something funny, Nameless?" he whispered as you eased around another set of vehicles. Someone's Camry doors were wide open, keys in the ignition and trunk popped. They'd left in a hurry. 

"Just cops and bikers being buds, that's all," you whispered back. "Nothing I haven't laughed at before." 

He rolled his eyes and pulled both of you back behind a Honda that had seen better days before the blood splattered all over the inside of the windshield. You grimaced. That shit was gross. 

He glanced into the backseat of the Honda and shook his head in disbelief, cutting his eyes to you with a smirk. "Ain't gonna believe what I just found." 

You raised an eyebrow at him as he leaned into the open back window and pulled out a hard-sided gun case. He set it on the truck and you limped over as he opened it up and grinned. You grinned too, looking down at the rifle, scope, and two boxes of ammunition. 

"I'll take your gun then," you told him. "You can have the new toy." 

 

Winding your way through the cars took even longer than you'd anticipated, and you were very rapidly running out of energy. Luckily, you'd almost made it. When you heard the rumble of Merle's bike, you turned wild eyes to Shane's and grinned. He shook his head at you and smiled back, slinging the rifle over his shoulder so he could wrap an arm around you to help you hobble faster. 

You were beaming as they drove by, not seeing where you guys were crouched, and hopped the median to your side of the road about a quarter mile ahead. You set your shoulders firmly and nodded to Shane, and you got underway again. 

But faster this time. 

 

 

You came at them from a blind spot, and they were pretty focused on each other so they didn't see you. 

"Where's the rest of us?" Daryl asked as the two of you made your way. 

"We're all that's made it out so far," Rick answered, voice soft. 

"Shane?" Lori asked, at the same time as Daryl snarling your name. 

"Haven't seen them since Shane took the RV," Rick replied. 

"Naw. The barn went up. She got out. Shane's probably with her," Daryl's voice was hard. "He better be, or I'll go fuckin' kill him again." 

Beside you, Shane snorted and shook his head. 

"Andrea? Patricia? Jimmy?" Glenn asked. 

"Jimmy and Patricia got bit," Beth's voice said softly. "I saw it happen, Daddy." 

"We saw Andrea go down- holy shit!" T Dog cut off mid sentence.

You grinned at him as everyone whirled. Rick was wrapped around Lori and Carl, and both of them stared. Carol and T Dog were standing together, and Hershel, Beth, and Maggie were huddled close as well. Glenn leaned against the hood of a car, and he just shook his head at you. 

Daryl was straddling Merle's bike, looking at you like he was seeing a ghost. You met his eyes and offered him a soft smile. 

"Hey, babe. I'm home," you said, dissolving into exhausted laughter at your own admittedly very poor joke. 

 

 

"The hell ya thinkin' of, tellin' him to leave you!" Daryl yelled, up in your face where you sat on the tailgate of Otis' truck. 

Shane was wrapping your ankle roughly while the others checked nearby cars again quickly, gathering what was available before you took off to somewhere. Anywhere. You smiled at Daryl without saying a word, even as Shane muttered something under his breath. Daryl shot a glare down at him but didn't respond, and you reached out and grabbed him hand. His fingers clenched around yours in a bruising grip, but you didn't ask him to lighten it. 

"I was thinking that if you and Rick hadn't made it to the house, the others needed to be warned. I couldn't do it, but Shane could," you told him, and Daryl scoffed. 

"Damn fool, ya know that," he muttered. 

"Yeah, I said the same thing," Shane answered with a shake of his head. He slid your boot back on your foot and laced it up. "Didn't think she'd be dumb enough to set the barn on fire with herself in it, though." 

"Oh, fuck you. I didn't have a choice," you shot back, annoyed. "And it worked." 

Shane patted your leg as he rose. "Sure it did, honey. Sure it did. Ok. Just sit here until Rick declares this show ready to go. Dixon, make sure her ass stays put." 

Daryl glared at him but didn't say anything as Shane walked over to where Rick had a map and was staring at it blankly. You watched, still holding Daryl's hand, as Rick clapped Shane on the shoulder and pulled him into one of those back-slapping manly hugs that were guy substitutes for deeper communication. You were smiling as they started looking at the map together, no traces of the anger and tension that had been between them for so long on their faces. 

Then Daryl stepped in front of you, his hand coming to your cheek. You focused on his face; the look of fear in his eyes. You brought your free hand up to grip his wrist. 

"I'm ok, Daryl," you told him, and he shook his head at you, closing his eyes as his thumb swept your cheekbone. 

"Don't fuckin' do that to me, baby. He came runnin' up, said he'd left ya out there- I almost put a bolt through his goddamn brain," Daryl whispered. 

You grinned. "I heard." 

"Shut up. Just- Fuck it," Daryl snarled, and he leaned in and kissed you, hard and fast. He broke it off just as rapidly as he started it, sliding his hand around to the back of your neck. He kissed you again, softly, while you were trying to get your balance, just a quick, gentle brush of his lips to yours. 

Then he let you go and walked away, snapping at you to stay put as he went.


	44. Freewill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

Your group condensed into three vehicles- you and Daryl on the bike; Hershel, Maggie, Glenn, Beth, and T Dog in the Hyundai; Rick, Lori, Carl, Carol, and Shane in the Silverado. You were on the road again, and you hadn't even protested Daryl in the driver's seat. 

Falling asleep riding pillion on a bike was a bad idea, sure. Falling asleep driving a bike was a worse one. 

Rick honked the horn once and Daryl pulled to a stop. Everyone piled out, debating the best course of action on getting gas and splitting the group or simply camping where you were. You stayed on the bike, sliding down to sit sideways on the seat. 

"Only got so many arrows. How we doin' on ammo?" Daryl put in as the decision was made to make camp and build a fire to stay warm. Winter was closing in, and you'd layered your vest and jacket again. 

"Not enough," Rick answered grimly. 

"Got two boxes when we found that rifle. Nameless has my piece and probably what? Half a magazine?" Shane said, glancing at you for confirmation. You nodded. 

"We set up a perimeter. In the morning, we'll find gas and some supplies. Keep pushing on," Rick said, and everyone shifted like they wanted to argue. "Make camp over there, move on at daybreak." He nodded toward the remains of a structure. 

"What if walkers come through? Or another group like Randall's?" Beth asked anxiously. 

"Shit, Randall," you said, running a hand over your eyes. "Rick, we need to talk about that. What the hell was with him as a walker, man? I killed him. He wasn't bitten or scratched, and he turned." 

"What?" Lori asked, looking at Rick. "How is that possible?" 

Rick stayed quiet while everyone stared at him, and he had a look. You tensed, rising from the bike and taking a step closer.

"Deputy?" you asked softly. 

"We're all infected," he finally said, and everyone stared. 

 

Well that started shit. Everyone started yelling at Rick at once, except you, Daryl, and- to your eternal surprise- Shane.

Turned out, Rick had known about everyone turning since the CDC, when Jenner had told him. He'd kept it a secret, declaring when the others put up a fuss that he'd felt it best if they didn't know, to keep people from panicking. Considering that's exactly what they were doing now, you thought the man might have had a point. Then again, club life had trained you to accept having information withheld from you- usually on the grounds of the greater good or for your own protection. You were starting to think life would be much better if everyone lived by club rules. 

Rick stalked off after a few minutes of the questioning, and you sighed. Lori followed him after a quick glance at Shane. Shane jerked his head in Rick's direction and she nodded and went. 

You closed your eyes with a sigh. Shit, it'd been a long couple of days, and you were so fucking tired. 

"Go sit down, Nameless." The amusement in Walsh's voice had you dragging you eyes open, only to find him and Daryl on either side of you. 

"I'm good," you said flatly, and Daryl snorted. 

"Naw, ya ain't," he disagreed, and you rolled your eyes. 

"Camp needs to be set up. These people need to be reminded that Rick's in charge. Shit to be done, boys," you said, nodding at the clustered knot of the others, muttering to themselves and shooting looks at where Lori and Rick were clearly fighting. 

"Yeah, and you don't need to do any of that. Get off that ankle. Give it some healing time. You'll be back to kicking asses and taking names in no time, Nameless," Shane shot back. "Told me to stay off mine when I fucked it up. Same applies to you." 

"Shane's right," Daryl muttered. "C'mon. Cain't handle the bike if ya don't let the damn thing heal." 

You groaned, but then you tried to take a step and couldn't help the hiss of pain. Daryl's hand shot out to steady you and you sighed. "Fine! Fine! Shane, give me the rifle. I'll keep watch while you guys set up." 

"Atta girl," Shane muttered with a grin. 

 

Camp was quiet and tense. Rick and Lori were at odds, the group was mad at Rick and there was a thread of mutiny running through the soft discussions around the fire. Everyone was cold and scared and exhausted, and you didn't blame them for being any of those things. 

You did blame them for being jerks. They'd made Rick the leader. They'd listened to him and followed him, and now, when things fell apart that were no one's fault, they went back to blaming him. Just like they had when Sophia went missing, they turned on him. When Shane argued, he was the bad guy. But when they disagreed, it was just. Rick was a bad leader. 

"What was that?" Carol asked, terrified, when leaves rattled. 

"Could be anything," Daryl said reassuringly. "Raccoon. Possum." 

"Could be a walker," T Dog put in. 

You stayed where you were, flat on your back with your head on a cushion of leaves and your eyes closed. You were too fucking tired to deal with everyone losing their shit over a noise in the woods. 

"Don't we have someone keeping watch for this very reason?" you said tiredly. "Everyone just settle the fuck down." 

"No. We need to leave. What are we waiting for?" Carol asked wildly. 

"The last thing we need is for everyone to be running off in the dark," Rick's voice came, and you cracked one eye to glance at him. He'd stayed behind, out there on the road, while camp was being set up. Lori had come in and curled up with Carl near the fire, and Rick had stayed out there. 

"Don't panic," Shane added as a twig snapped again. "We don't have the vehicles. No one's traveling on foot." 

"You're backing him up now?" Carol snapped. 

Shane scoffed. "Yeah. I am." 

"I'm not sitting here waiting for another herd to blow through," Maggie said grimly. "We need to move, now." 

"No one is going anywhere!" you snapped. 

"Do something!" Carol said to Rick, and you sat up and opened your eyes to snap at her. 

Rick beat you to it. "I am doing something! I'm keeping this group together, alive. I've been doing that all along, no matter what. I didn't ask for this! I've fought my best friend for you people, for Christ's sake! Maybe you people are better off without me. Go ahead," he spat, gesturing into the dark. 

You glanced at Shane, who was watching Rick with a faint smile, and then to Lori, who was watching Rick with a very visible frown. Carl was staring at his dad with wide eyes, and the rest of the group looked about the same. You looked back at Rick as he continued. 

"I say there's a place for us, but maybe- maybe it's just another pipe dream. Maybe I'm foolin' myself again. Why don't- why don't you go and find out yourself? Send me a postcard! Go on, there's the door," Rick said, shrugging. "Let's see how far you get." 

He paused and looked around, and when his eyes landed on you, you stuck your tongue out at him. He didn't even blink. You hoped that meant he knew you were steadily in his corner. Shit, if he didn't know that by now, there was no convincing the man. 

"No takers? Fine," he said when nobody moved. "Let's get one thing straight. You're staying? This isn't a democracy anymore." 

"Finally!" you declared into the sudden silence. Shane and Daryl both laughed, but everyone else was staring around like Rick had lost his damn mind. When no one said anything else for a long moment, Rick strode back out, gun in hand. 

Shane shook his head and sighed. "People, that man's right. He's done everything that needed doing, and I fought him every damn step of the way. You're going to argue now? Because he didn't tell you something? No. He's in charge, and that's that. President of the club," he added, running a hand over your hair as he walked past you. "Now let's set up a couple people on watch and take turns getting some sleep."


	45. Gimme Shelter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past murder

So the thing about starving to death slowly was, it was boring. And exhausting. All the fleeing and searching and watching; setting camps up and breaking them down- it was killer on the body and the spirit. 

And months of that shit? Well. 

Winter was finally easing the vicious hold it had on Georgia. You couldn't remember one quite this cold, not in the past decade or so. Because you hadn't had enough to worry about with the zombie apocalypse and all, now you had global warming to ponder as well. 

Things were- well, things were grim. You'd held onto your vehicles, but only barely. And you were going around in circles all damn winter, getting cut off again and again by different herds as the walkers ranged further out from Atlanta and other former hubs of life. 

There'd been one memorable night, maybe two weeks after the farm fell, when your people had been holed up in someone else's farmhouse. Hershel had been so sad, standing in another man's kitchen and searching his cabinets, but everyone else had been grateful to have some decent cover. Nights with no walls were very, very tense. 

The group had been slowly coming to terms with the new world order, also known as the Rick-ocracy. Being fair to Rick, it wasn't like he just dismissed other people's thoughts and opinions. It was just the opposite. However, once he made a decision, that was it. The others weren't used to that, but you were. Hell, you'd been operating under that assumption all along. 

Still, things were starting to smooth out. Shane was one of Rick's staunchest supporters, backing his plays and offering constructive disagreement instead of assholish disagreement. Things were getting cautiously better between the two of them, even as they were devolving rapidly between Rick and Lori. You didn't know exactly what had caused that rift, but it had started somewhere around Rick's announcement that you were all infected. 

Even with that big farmhouse to rattle around in, the group all piled into the floor of the living and dining rooms, staying close together for safety. Mattresses had been drug from the bedrooms, blankets and pillows gathered to make the sleeping arrangements a little easier. And watchers had been stationed at the front and back. 

You'd been on the front window, in the middle of the night. You usually took that shift, since years of waking up at twelve thirty sharp every night made interrupted sleeping patterns easy for you to handle. It was your third night in that particular farm, and everyone was feeling more relaxed as no herds had shown up and some much-needed rest was gotten. 

You were looking through the scope when you caught the glimpse. You saw the movement in the trees and kept scanning, waiting to see how many of them there were before you raised the alarm that would have all of you on your feet and packing things into your cars. Then you saw it. 

Nameless colors, on the back of a shambling, rotting monster. 

You couldn't help the gasp that escaped, and Daryl shot upright from where he'd been stretched out near you. 

"Ya aight?" he whispered, scooting over to where you knelt. 

"Daryl." You looked away from the scope, turning wide, tear-filled eyes to him. "It's- there's walkers-" 

"Shit," he muttered, reaching for the crossbow that was never far from his fingertips. "Can we take 'em quietly?" 

"No, I- Fuck. Dixon, one of them's in colors. I- I can't look-" you shook your head, swallowing hard. 

Daryl's eyes softened and his face twisted for a moment as he reached for you. His fingers brushed your cheek, wiping away tears. Then he eased the rifle from your hands and scanned the night. 

"Hell. It's aight, baby. Ain't Merle. But there's a few too many of 'em. Need to get the others moving." 

You sighed, swiped at your eyes, and nodded. Daryl whistled sharply, and people shot upright instantly, everyone starting to gather backpacks and scoop up weapons and supplies. You did your job, using the scope to keep an eye on the walkers milling slowly toward the house, until Daryl tapped your shoulder twice. 

Time to go, but- 

You looked at him. "I don't want to leave him like that. Whoever he is, I probably knew him," you said, devastated. He glanced out the window, hesitating, before shaking his hand. 

"Ain't got enough ammo, girl. C'mon, we gotta bounce." 

Later, as you swung off the back of the bike, he caught your hand in his. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and you'd shrugged. 

What did it matter? you told yourself. The dead were the dead, no matter who they might have been in life. 

 

 

Days and weeks bled into each other in the monotony, but you remembered vividly the day you realized Lori was starting to show. You didn't know how far along she was; hell, you didn't know how long it had been since the farm was overrun. 

You only knew that your group was a well-oiled machine by now. When you moved locations, you and Daryl took the lead on the bike. Daryl had given you a refresher on the crossbow, not that you'd needed much reminding. He'd adjusted the draw a bit so you could load the thing in a pinch, though it was still an effort. The two of you made one badass team, though, rolling through on the bike with one of you driving and the other covering them with the crossbow. 

You'd scored on ammo and some much-needed suppressors awhile back, and now you could use your guns again, though you limited the number of shots fired and horded that shit like it was gold. Hell, it was worth more than gold ever had been, in your opinion. 

Rick, Shane, and Carl would back you up as you cleared new places. Rick and Shane moved like one when shit needed to be done, though it'd been long enough since all the major drama that they were back to bickering like an old married couple- not maliciously, not with that edge of anger and distrust; just old friends who drove each other nuts sometimes. T Dog, Glenn, and Maggie- who was fiercer than you'd given her credit for back on the farm; you got along like gangbusters the few times you'd been paired up to do things- would hang back and guard the vehicles and Lori, Carol, Hershel, and Beth. 

Lori was setting up camp in a shit hole trailer that had made both you and Daryl look at each other significantly when you'd pulled up to it. She bent and grabbed something out of a pack, standing back up and putting a hand against her lower back. The sun came through the dingy windows behind her and you noticed how rounded she was starting to look. 

"Holy shit," you muttered under your breath, the reality that there was going to be a fucking baby that would be crying and shitting and needing to be fed hitting you like a ton of bricks. How in the hell were you going to keep your group alive with a newborn? In an unknown number of months, because you had no idea how far along she was? 

Shane was standing next to you and looked at you oddly. "What, Nameless?" 

You looked at him, panicking a little, and stepped close to whisper to him urgently. "Shane- Shane, Lori's pregnant!" 

"Uh. Yeah?" he said, looking at you like maybe you'd hit your head when he hadn't noticed. "When was the last time you ate, YN?" 

You waved that off, because, well- you didn't really remember. "No, I mean- look at her. She's really pregnant. What the hell are we going to do when that baby wants to be born? We're running like every damn night from walkers! Shit, Officer-" 

Shane snorted, putting a hand on your shoulder. "Calm the fuck down, girl. You think Rick and I aren't thinking about all that shit already? Trust us; we know." 

You closed your eyes and drew in a deep breath before looking over at her critically again. "She's too pale. And she should be eating more." 

"You fuss like a damn mother hen," Shane told you. You scowled and tried to argue, but dammit. He was right. 

 

 

There'd been a bloody adventure in a subdivision for you, Shane, and Daryl. To be fair, the subdivision itself was fine. You'd scavenged a bunch of food until Shane whistled that one of the herds you'd been tracking was coming. The three of you had taken off back to the others, aware already that you'd probably be in trouble from Rick for having gone into the subdivision when you were supposed to only be scouting. 

Then you'd gotten pinned down by another group of walkers, this one smaller than the herd behind, but large enough that you hid when you saw them. You and Shane had ducked behind one tree and Daryl had tossed himself down behind a bush nearby. 

"Shit, Officer. You see the size of that thing? Who the fuck was he in real life?" you whispered, looking around the tree at the huge walker staggering with the rest of the group. 

"Shut up, Nameless," Shane hissed back, but he spoke again after a pause. "Sumo wrestler." 

You smothered a laugh by pressing your face into his shoulder. "He's a pasty white guy!" 

"They're all grey and half-rotted, how the fuck can you tell? Still my guess. Yours?" he asked, looking over his shoulder to smirk. 

You paused, thinking about it. You crouched behind Shane, and over to your left kept Daryl shooting glances between the wandering dead and the two of you. Finally you grinned. 

"Lumberjack." 

"Good lumberjack would wear plaid," Shane shot back, and you pressed your face into his shoulder again to keep your laugh from being heard. 

"Would ya stop cuttin' up, damn it? Gonna get our asses eaten." Daryl's voice came from right behind you, but you hadn't heard him move at all. Your head whipped up, eyes wide as you lifted your gun partway before your brain caught up. 

He scowled at you and jerked his head at the group ahead. "There's about ten. Think we can take 'em?" 

"Hand to hand?" you asked. "We fire, we'll draw that bigger group. Might be better to wait them out." 

"Could if you two would stop gigglin' over shit," Daryl snarled. 

"Fuck," Shane said. "Headed our way. Caught the big man's attention." 

You choked on another laugh and traded your gun for your knife. "That settles it. Let's do this, boys." 

You'd got back to camp bloody and tired, and Rick had chewed all three of you out for having been reckless. Then you held up the bag of cans you'd managed to score before the herd had wandered in, and his face changed. 

"Still idiots. Next time, be more careful," he snapped. 

 

 

More running, more scrambling for food, more sleepless nights and blurry vision and gnawing, aching hunger; everyone in your group too worn down to do anything beyond the bare minimum. You cleared shelter when you could, slept on the bare floor with your boots on, and sprang up at a moment's notice to run. 

To summarize, you were slowly dying. All of you. 

Lori was massively pregnant now, but behind the protruding stomach she was skin and bones and exhaustion. Rick, Shane, and Hershel all eyed her with growing concern, and Rick often looked hopeless and lost. She and Rick's relationship had devolved as your situation did; the most recent blow up having been a few days- or maybe weeks- or hell, it might have been yesterday. Time was an amorphous concept to you now.

Rick had called the caravan to a halt, sent you and Daryl into the woods with a nod and a pointed finger, and sent Shane off with Glenn to see if they could find fuel. While you were gone, she and Rick had gotten into it over something Rick said. As with every conversation between the two of them, it went south very, very quickly. You didn't know if either of them even knew what the fuck they fought over now. 

To be fair, Rick and Lori weren't the only ones fighting. Rick and Shane had blown up at each other a few times, but like Shane claimed they had before the end of the world, they yelled a little, threw punches once, and always made up. Maggie and Glenn had a few dust ups as well, and you learned that Maggie had a righteous temper and a vicious right hook when provoked. 

For the record, she'd punched you, not Glenn. You'd grabbed her arm when she was busy fuming at the trees and she'd lashed out without thinking. Your nose bled but you'd sat there on your ass and howled with laughter for the first time in God only knew how long while she apologized over and over again with her hands pressed to her face. 

You and Shane had almost come to blows once as well, over a stupid call in a house you were clearing that had damn near gotten Daryl bit. Daryl had come between you and talked you down with a roll of his eyes and a demand for quiet. Officer Walsh had come to you later and apologized, but you'd waved him off and told him Daryl could take care of himself and you were just hungry. 

And finally, you and Daryl had fought. Repeatedly. About everything from your breakup to him killing your foster dad- everyone's eyes had gotten huge and Shane had muttered a 'good job, man', which had sparked another, totally unrelated argument about just how damn close you and Shane were, that one hissed viciously in the dark at twelve thirty something while you were on watch and everyone else slept- to him not thinking you could handle yourself to him always giving you food instead of eating himself. 

That one hadn't been exactly fair, since you turned around and handed your own food to Carl, Lori, or Hershel, but, well. You were a bitch sometimes.

Basically, the food had pretty much run out, shelter was impossible to find for long, and you were being slowly boxed in by approaching herds. You'd resigned yourself weeks ago to death, and it was just a matter of what was going to kill you first- starvation or the dead.

Something had to change, and it had to be soon.


	46. Your Crime Is Time, And It's 18 and Life to Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

You sacrificed a thigh sheath to Carl, reluctantly. The kid couldn't keep going around with a gun tucked sideways through his belt. Rick had given you a grateful smile and the kid had beamed and hugged you. 

You weren't used to kids hugging you, but hey. This one could shoot zombies in the head without blinking an eye and thought motorcycles were cool. He could hang. 

Everyone was watching when Carl started opening the can of dog food. Everyone except for Daryl, who was busy plucking feathers from a fucking owl. 

You were starving. The kid wanted to eat that shit; you'd let the kid eat that shit.

Rick, not so much.

 

 

Rick called a halt and everyone moved. 

Carl and Beth went to either end of the caravan, weapons in hand. Carl on point, Beth on the rear. Hershel spread out the map as Rick did a slow pan around. You gathered with the others, bent over the map, seeing too damn many red circles, arrows, and scribbled herd sizes. The only person not out of the vehicle with a weapon in hand was Lori, who was just too exhausted these days to do much of anything.

"Got no place left to go," T Dog observed. 

"When this herd meets up with this one, we'll be cut off," Maggie agreed, leaning over Hershel's shoulder to point. "We'll never make it south." 

"What would you say it was, about a hundred-fifty head?" Daryl asked, and you glanced at him with a grin. 

"We could take that," Shane agreed. 

Glenn shook his head. "That was last week. Could be twice that by now." 

"Might be a little too much, even for us," you said reluctantly. 

"River could have delayed them. We move fast, we might have a shot to tear right through there," Hershel chimed in. Voices dissented, and you watched Rick watch Lori. 

"We'll double back on 27, then head toward Newnan. Haven't been through there yet," he said finally. "We can't keep going house to house. Need to find someplace to hole up for a few weeks." 

"Alright," T Dog agreed. 

"We should hit the creek before we head out. Fill up on water, boil it later," Shane said, and Rick nodded.

You leaned on the truck as Hershel said what all of you already knew. 

"She can't take much more of this moving about." 

Rick nodded. 

Daryl tapped your arm. "Hey. While the others're washin' their panties, let's go hunt. That owl didn't exactly hit the spot." 

You snorted, then whistled. Rick looked over at you. 

"Going out?" 

You nodded. "Come with?" 

He hesitated, glancing between Lori and the others. "Shane! You're in charge. Gonna go hunt- thirty minutes, then roll out." 

Shane nodded in agreement. 

You no longer had the energy to be surprised at the improvement between the two of them. Starvation would do that for you. 

 

 

Daryl saw the prison first. "That's a shame," he muttered, probably about all the walkers milling around in the yard. 

You glanced down at it, the fences intact and buildings still standing, and felt something cold creep down your spine. Without turning, you pointed at Rick. 

"No," you said. 

"Do you see the walls?" 

"No, Deputy." 

"YN, come on-" 

"Rick, damn it. No!" 

 

 

"We can take it," Rick told Shane in a low voice as the four of you stood with your heads together on the creek's bank. 

Shane started laughing immediately. 

"Shut the fuck up, Walsh," you muttered, scowling. Daryl started to laugh too, and even Rick's lips twitched. 

"Fine. Have your fun at the biker's expense," you said, tossing your hands up. "Rick, seriously though- how? The place was crawling with walkers." 

"We need a closer look," Rick said. "If we're lucky, we can go piece by piece. Didn't think I saw any in the guard run. That's the place to start. From there, hit the towers and light up the yard. Then move on to the buildings. It's perfect, really." 

"Sure. Perfect. Whatever you say," you muttered sarcastically. "Just a fucking prison."

"Won't you be right at home?" Shane teased. 

You flipped him off as Rick whistled for the group to bring it in and gather around. 

 

 

Rick used the bolt cutters you'd picked up a few houses back on the fence. Shane hovered right at his shoulder, and you and Daryl covered the group as a whole. Maggie and Glenn took down a walker together under your watchful eye. 

Shane went through first, then Daryl. The others ducked in while you held the line, Rick finally hissing at you to get through when you and he were the only ones left. 

Then Glenn used wire to seal the gap, and you dropped the walker that slammed against the outer fence while he secured it. Your group jogged down the guard run, walkers hitting the fences to either side of you as you went. You were eyeing the yard, already twitchy inside the fence. Prison was not a good idea to you. 

 

 

An officer held open the door, glancing over you where you had your helmet tucked under one arm. You felt absurdly conspicuous, despite the fact that you'd left your vest in one of your bike's saddlebags. 

Atlanta PD wasn't the best place to fly colors, you figured. At least not while you were there to pick up Merle. 

"Hi, yeah- I got a call about picking someone up?" you asked the person behind the desk. 

"Name?" 

"Mine or the person I'm here for?" 

"Theirs, please," the officer said, sounding bored. Or possibly annoyed. 

Your shoulders felt tense and you tried to relax, but all the cops around made you anxious. A biker prospect in the PD wasn't your idea of a good time. "Merle Dixon?" 

The officer tapped a few keys and nodded. "He'll be up in a few minutes. Have a seat." 

You sat, but you fidgeted. When Merle finally came out, he was grinning from ear to ear. 

"Hey, baby girl!" he called to you. "Got my shit and my papers. Let's go. Where's ya vest?" 

"Left it in the saddlebag," you told him quietly, falling into step with him. "Didn't think I needed to advertise; not here." 

"Awww, nope, girlie. If ya ain't proud to fly those colors everywhere ya go, you don't deserve 'em. Next time, keep them on," he instructed seriously. 

You nodded, soaking up his words like usual. He was your sponsor, your teacher, and you were desperate to learn. At your bike, you pulled your vest out and swung it on while he grinned at you. 

"There ya go, sweetheart! That's better. Now, you gonna let me drive? Ol' Merle ain't gettin' on no bitch seat, girlie." 

You rolled your eyes and tossed him the key to your still-new Softail. "There, asshole. Let's just go, ok?" 

"Sure thing. Gotta leave these pigs to their mud, huh?" he called loudly, and several of the cops moving nearby scowled at you. 

Your bike roared to life and Merle took off with a squeal of the tires, and you laughed even as you grabbed onto him for dear life. 

 

 

Rick's declaration of the place's perfection had you shaking your head in annoyance, but he was right- if you could close that gate, you could take the field. Picking them off would be easy enough if no more of them were coming in. You ground your teeth together and volunteered for the gate run. 

You were promptly shut down. 

You argued. You lost. The habit was getting extremely old. 

 

You and Daryl were in one tower, Carl, Carol, and Hershel in another. Shane, Maggie, Glenn, T Dog, and Beth were banging on the fence and attracting as much attention as they could. 

You muttered the whole time, but you kept them off Rick. 

"Ya gonna shut the fuck up eventually, right?" Daryl asked as he dropped one right beside Rick. 

"Probably not," you snapped back. "I should be down there watching his ass." 

"Yeah, well, ya up here watchin' his ass. Just shoot, baby," Daryl said, grinning at you. 

Then Rick was in the guard tower, slamming the door behind him, and you whistled. 

"Light it up!" Daryl yelled. 

And you did.


	47. I'm Burnin', I'm Burnin', I'm Burnin' For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

Rick was smiling like you hadn't seen in months. Shit, everyone was, but it was Rick's that did you the most good. You crossed your arms and glared at him as he motioned everyone into the yard. 

"Should have let me do it," you told him. He pulled you in for a hug and kissed your forehead without saying anything in response. 

You rolled your eyes and watched the others run around celebrating. Shane and Daryl were going from walker to walker, stabbing through the skulls just to be safe. Carol and T Dog were spinning in circles with their arms stretched out wide, laughing at the sheer amount of room. Quarters had been cramped, after all. Carl was talking to Beth; Maggie and Glenn were holding hands and smiling at each other; and Hershel had a hand on Lori's back as she cupped her stomach and smiled at him. 

Yeah, everyone was happy. You had fences and gates and were guaranteed to sleep well tonight. 

But you were in a damn prison. 

 

 

All that space and they grouped together by one fire. You shook your head and laughed a little at them, standing on the overturned bus as you kept watch. Rick was walking the fence for the third time, and you wondered what he was looking for- security or solitude.

"Whatcha laughin' at?" 

You smiled as Daryl climbed up. You extended a hand and he grabbed it, letting you help him up the last bit. You let your hand linger in his as you answered. "Them. All that talk about space and they're piled right on top of each other. We can't help it." 

He snorted. "Like you'n me when we was kids. Lookin' to be close to feel better." 

"Yeah," you agreed softly. "Probably why you and I always end up beside each other at night, too." 

"Probably. Shit, girl. I missed ya, those years. First night, after? When I moved into Merle's place? Couldn't sleep for shit. Laid awake half the night before I started drinking." 

You heart clenched and you pulled your hand from Daryl's, running it over your hair to pretend that's why you'd taken it back. You knew he knew better, but thinking about that night was harder for you than being sliced open and someone rubbing salt into the wound. 

"Yeah," you said softly. "Yeah, I- No. No, I'm sorry, but I can't- Daryl, that night- I can't." 

He sighed and looked away from you. "Yeah. Yeah, I get that. I'm sorry. Shouldn't have brought it up." 

You swallowed against the lump in your throat and looked away. "It's fine. Come on, this is a happy night. Let's talk about something else." 

"Like what?" he asked, eyeing you. 

"Like..." you trailed off as you thought. Then you grinned. "First time on a bike. Merle and me, fixing up that XLCH. Remember?" 

He laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, I remember. You bouncin' around like crazy while Merle tried to get the helmet on ya. You were pissed he'd finished it while ya were in school. Called me the best friend ever," he added. "When I said I'd've covered for ya at school to help him if I'd known. Shit, when the two of ya got back, you looked like you'd seen heaven."

"God, Dixon, I had seen heaven! And hey, I knew what I had in you, even then," you said quietly, looking up at him. 

"Yeah. Me too. Sorry I forgot for awhile." 

The smile slid off your face again and you sighed. "Honestly? I'm sorry, too. I mean, sure, you dumped me without warning. But I was a bitch to you a lot after." 

He snorted. "Don't need to apologize, baby. It's all my fault." 

"No, not all," you disagreed. Then you flashed him a smirk. "Like ninety percent, though." 

"Bitch." 

"Asshole," you shot back, and both of you were laughing again. 

 

 

You were eleven the first time you climbed on a bike. Well, technically you were three weeks and five days from being twelve, but who was counting? 

"Hey, little brother. Hey, girlie. Check it out!" Merle called as you and Daryl rounded the corner to their yard. You stopped and stared, eyes wide. 

"You finished it?" you shrieked, dropping your school bag as you rushed forward to stare at the bike Merle leaned against proudly. 

"Yep. And I got ya somethin', too," he said, grinning as you bounced excitedly on your toes. He pulled a helmet from his back and handed it to you. 

You took it automatically, then frowned at him. "What? Why-?" 

"Ya gonna need that if you're gonna ride with me, baby girl," he said with a shrug. 

"What!?" you yelled, slamming the helmet onto your head eagerly. "Now? Can we go now?" 

He tossed back his head and laughed. "Sure thing. C'mon, let me make sure ya good there," he said, beckoning you closer. 

You did, practically vibrating with excitement while he checked the fit of the helmet. "I can't believe it's done. What, did you skip school today or something? God, I'm so pissed you didn't wait to let me help you finish it, but I'm so excited to ride! Daryl, can you believe he's finished the whole thing?"

"Yeah, I figured. Didn't know he'd be done today or I'd have covered ya so ya could help," Daryl put in, and you sent him a grin over your shoulder. He'd scooped up your book bag from where you'd dropped it in the middle of the backyard, depositing it with his under his window.

"Thanks, Dixon. You're the best friend, like, ever. Merle, how long did it take you to finish it? Have you ridden it already? How fast can it go? What-" 

He finally slapped his hand over your mouth. "Would ya shut up, girl? C'mon, ya good to go. Hop on," he called, and you copied his movements as he tossed a leg over the seat and braced himself. 

"How do we look, Daryl?" you called, looking over at him where he stood, arms crossed and a smile on his lips. He flashed you a thumbs up, as Merle pulled his own helmet down.

"Aight, hold on to me now. You're next, baby brother. Ready, girl?" 

"Shit, Merle, I was born ready!" you said, wrapping your arms around him as he laughed and kicked the engine on. 

The thrum filled your ears and you laughed wildly, breathless and thrilled already. He gunned it a little, enjoying your reaction and milking the moment. You whooped while Daryl laughed, and then Merle hit the gas. 

And you were flying.

 

 

You made your way back to the fire as Beth's voice lifted, first hesitantly but then stronger. Your steps slowed as Maggie joined in, listening to their mixing together in a way that said they'd sung duets often. You were smiling at the sound, and at the way they looked at each other. 

"Know any Zepplin?" you asked them as you dropped to sit cross-legged beside Shane. 

He laughed with everyone else. "Always preferred Skynard, myself," he said, handing you a bowl with a little of something you weren't sure you wanted to identify left in it.

You stared at the bowl and at him before handing it on to Lori. She, in turn, passed it to Carl, who scowled but ended the game of hot potato before it made it all the way around the circle. You rolled your eyes at Shane, who glared for a minute before making a face at you. 

Conversation had devolved into everyone naming their favorite bands and singers and songs you missed, people talking over each other and laughter ringing out. You yawned, laying back to look up at the stars wheeling overhead. 

"I'd do a lot for a radio with a good eighties rock station, a bottle of Jack, and s'mores stuff," you muttered. 

Shane glanced down at you in amusement. "You a camper, Nameless? Didn't take you for the roughing it type." 

"Now? Hell no. When I was a kid? I spent a shit ton of days and nights on the bed of a creek with Daryl and Merle. After Merle left it'd be just me and Daryl, but still. We'd go down there, smoke some, drink some, blare out music on the radio or my Walkman. Fall asleep either in this tent they had or under the stars. Only place we felt safe," you answered. 

You half-sat up, propped on your elbows, and glanced around for Daryl. He'd wandered over to talk to Carol and was massaging her shoulder. You grinned, guessing from the shoulder he was working on that she was sore from the rifle's kick back. 

"Nameless, you're a fool," Shane said, amusement filling his voice. 

You looked over and raised a lazy eyebrow at him. "The fuck?"

"You're so in love with Dixon over there you can't even hide it. Why the hell haven't you done something about it yet?"

You flopped back onto the ground and groaned. "We're not in love anymore, asshole." 

"Bullshit." 

"Bite me," you shot out. 

"Did that a few times, at the C.D.C." 

You laughed and he chuckled with you, leaning over to look down at you. "Fair enough, Walsh," you told him, patting his knee. "Fair enough." 

"Look, it ain't my business-" Shane began. 

"-but you're going to butt in anyway," you muttered. 

"I'm going to offer you some advice," he finished over you with an eye roll, nudging your leg with his foot. "Whatever happened between you before? Stop dwelling on it. It's gone. Over and done. He's alive and so are you. He's fucking crazy about you, and you got a damn tattoo that matches his." 

"What the fuck does my tattoo have to do with anything? I told you, I got that before he and I ever got together," you protested. 

"Just makin' my point for me, Nameless," he told you with a smirk. "Could have gotten it covered after you broke up, but you didn't."

You propped yourself up on your elbows again and watched Daryl smile at Carol. He looked up and met your eyes, so you crossed yours at him and stuck out your tongue. He shook his head at you with a grin, then looked over at where Rick was approaching the laughing group. 

"Fuck you, Shane," you muttered, but there wasn't any feeling behind it as you watched Daryl.

"Well, I would, sweetheart, if you ever looked at me like that," Shane said quietly beside you, voice strangely serious. 

You turned to him in surprise, wondering just what in the world that meant, but Rick chose that moment to start talking to everyone. 

"Better all turn in. I'll take watch over there. Got a big day tomorrow."


	48. Time Is On My Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> implied mentions of past sexual abuse of a minor

Rick gave a passionate speech, got in a fight with Lori, and stayed up half the night on watch. When your eyes snapped open, you stretched and got up. There was a poncho draped over you that hadn't been there when you fell asleep. You glanced at Daryl, sprawled on the ground only a couple of feet from you, and shifted the crossbow over so it he wouldn't hit it when he inevitably rolled over. Then you headed to where you could see Rick's dark shape on top of the bus. 

"This is a good spot for watch," you told him easily, poncho now draped around you. It smelled strongly of Daryl, which wasn't surprising. Everything smelled strongly these days, for good or ill. 

"Is it twelve thirty already?" Rick asked, turning to you and giving you the same hand up you'd given Daryl earlier that night. 

"Must be," you answered. 

He sighed. "Sorry you still wake up like this every night. Hell of a thing to live through. Hell of a thing to live with." 

You shrugged. "Just my life. I wouldn't have made it without Daryl and Merle. They saved me." 

"Yeah," Rick said. "I'm sorry about Merle." 

"I know," you told him. "We both forgave you months ago. Hell, it wasn't even your fault, really. You didn't know him like I knew him. You only saw that- him high. But to me? That wasn't him." 

You sighed, staring back toward the fire. You picked out Maggie and Glenn, Carl, Lori. Shane and Daryl on either side of where you'd been laying. God, you missed Merle. "He was my brother. I miss the shit out of him," you finally continued. Then you turned a critical eye toward Rick. "Look, Deputy. Far be it from me to question our club president, but shouldn't you be getting some sleep, man? This thing tomorrow's going to be rough." 

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah. It might be. We can handle it, though." 

"Of course we can. But we need you in the top form you can possibly be in. Since I know for a fact you gave half of tonight's mystery dinner- by the way do I even want to know what that was?- to Lori, I imagine you're hungry and exhausted. Go get some sleep, Deputy Grimes. I'll watch your ass," you told him with a jerk of your head toward the fire. 

"Yeah, yeah. You know I'm not a deputy anymore, right?" he asked you seriously. 

You laughed. "You'll always be a cop, Rick. Just like I'll always be a criminal. Go to sleep." 

 

 

The courtyard was taken fairly smoothly. It tried to fall apart somewhere around halfway through, when you got around the first corner and saw how many zombies there were behind the next- of course open- gate. You and Maggie went back to back while the men got the gate closed, and the two of you took out three of the four walkers in riot gear together. 

"Girl power!" you said with a grin, and you and Maggie fist bumped. 

Rick decided to push further in, and off you went into a cell block. Never in your life had you wanted to be in a prison, and yet here you found yourself. Hoping to move into one. 

With two cops, a farmer and his daughters, a pizza delivery guy, a pregnant woman, a former housewife, a man who had told you literally nothing about his background, a kid with wicked aim, and your ex-lover-slash-best-friend. Shit balls, the world was weird after it ended. 

Cleaning out cell block C was easier than it should have been, too, especially after Rick found the keys. There were only two walkers to put down, and you handled them both since you were on the upper level. The fact that one of them got a clean shot at your arm because you did something stupid didn't need to be mentioned, since your leather jacket had the thing's rotting teeth bouncing right off. 

So you just wouldn't mention that little detail to anyone. 

 

 

You and Maggie went to bring in the members of your group you'd left outside and haul in your gear while the boys started cleaning out the cells. Bodies were being removed and everyone was smiling as they came inside, eyes huge and asking questions. 

"In the morning, we'll look for the cafeteria and the infirmary. Keep taking over this place a bit at a time," Rick told everyone. 

"So we sleep in the cells?" Beth asked. 

"I've got keys. So does Daryl," Rick reassured her, but you shook your head. 

"Hell no. I'm not sleeping in a cell, Deputy. Last time I fell asleep in a cage, one of your people tried to break in and eat me," you told him. "That was after Officer Suspicious Profiling Methods Walsh said he'd be back in a couple hours and never fucking showed." 

"You still bitter about that, Nameless? Shit. Learn to let things go, girl," Shane called from where he was heaving the walkers who'd gotten the drop on you over the upper railing. You made a face and flipped him off. 

 

 

You drug a mattress into the open area on the lower floor and crashed on it, dropping to sleep like lead hitting the ground. You'd admired the ability to drop in and out of sleep in both Merle and Shane, and now you'd gained it yourself. You almost wished it was harder for you again, if only because that might mean you'd been getting a little more rest and were therefore a little less exhausted constantly. Daryl had followed your lead, taking the spot just at the top of the stairs with a mattress of his own. He waved at you as you laid down, and you waved back. You tried not to think about how much it bothered you that he was so far away, telling yourself it was only because of that closeness you'd all been forced into for so long. You missed all of them being in your sight when you sat up- Shane and Daryl to either side of you; Lori, Carl, and Rick just beyond them; Maggie and Glenn snuggled together; Beth, Hershel, Carol, and T Dog all circling the fire or filling the room nearby.

You felt like you'd barely closed your eyes when they were popping open again. It must have been twelve thirty, and you could hear someone pacing on the walkway. 

The rush of primal fear had you on your feet with your gun in your hand before your mind caught up to the fact that you weren't a teenager and the world had done some ending between the last time you'd had to worry about your foster dad and now. 

You froze in place, hoping whoever it was didn't notice your momentary lapse. Too late, though- Daryl was already heading your way, taking the steps two at a time. 

"Hey. What's wrong?" he whispered when he was close, reaching for you with one hand and his crossbow in the other. 

You shook your head, fumbling your gun back into its holster. "Were you the one pacing just now?" 

He froze, hand on your shoulder. "Fuck. Sorry, baby. Didn't know what time it was." 

"How the hell would you have? I only know because I wake up," you said with a small smile. 

He shook his head, setting the crossbow on the floor. "Still. Should know better than to be doin' that at night anywhere near ya." 

"Daryl, it's been a almost a decade since I saw him put in the ground. Just bad timing and overworked nerves. Pace away," you said dryly. 

"Naw. Wanna go back to sleep? Ain't no need for watch when we're in here." 

"Then what are you doing up?" you asked with a smirk. 

He leaned one shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms. "Couldn't sleep. In fuckin' prison." 

You turned to look at him, leaning against the wall yourself. "Yeah. I know. What the fuck? This is not the way I pictured myself ever going to prison, that's for sure."

"Always figured I'd go down in a blaze of glory tryin' to keep you outta here." 

The laugh shot out and hand you clapping a hand over your mouth so you wouldn't wake up the others. "Shit, Dixon." 

"Sorry," he said, faint smile on his lips. "Still." 

"Yeah," you agreed. "Nice to have walls and be able to actually rest, though." 

"Really? 'Cause ya sure ain't doing it." 

"Hello, pot? It's the kettle calling," you fired back at him, rolling your eyes. 

He huffed. "Fair enough." 

You both fell silent for a minute. You watched him as he looked down and started chewing absently at his thumbnail. Finally he looked back up at you seriously.

"We ain't talked about it, ya know." 

"Talked about what?" you asked cautiously. You looked away from him, fairly sure you knew where he was going and almost equally sure you did not want to discuss it. 

"I kissed ya." 

You bit your lip to keep from grimacing. You'd been right. "You've kissed me lots of times, Daryl." 

"Don't be a bitch. On the road, after the farm," he said impatiently, glaring at you a little. 

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your eyes as you accepted the inevitable. Hell, he was right. It was probably time you address the elephant in the room. Especially with Shane's comments lingering in your mind. 

"You kissed me at the C.D.C., too. Didn't know we needed to talk about it. You thought we were dying. Then you thought I was dead. Just a reflex," you shrugged. "I get it." 

"No, ya don't," he scoffed. "Wasn't just because of that shit. Sure, about to die and all. But, baby, I- I still love ya. Always fuckin' have." 

Your eyes went wide. No. He wasn't doing this to you. You weren't in love any more. It was how you could stay close to him now: you were friends, best friends, and that was it. That was all. It had to be, damn it. "Dixon- come on. You dumped me. You dumped me, remember?" 

He scowled and shoved upright, gesturing vaguely and looking seriously annoyed. "Of course I remember, damn it. I also remember every damn minute since then. I remember how fuckin' great we are together. I remember that you're the best friend I ever had, and I ain't stopped lovin' ya since you sat down beside me in a damn Def Leppard t shirt that was two sizes too big for ya when we were eight fuckin' years old." 

"Daryl-" you started, overwhelmed and confused and amazed that he remembered what you were wearing the day you'd met. You'd been eight, for Christ's sake. You didn't even remember that you'd been wearing that.

"No," he snapped, stepping over to you. You turned so your back was pressed to the wall behind you, setting your palms flat on the cinderblocks to keep from clenching your hands into fists or simply grabbing him and yanking him to you. He looked you right in the eyes, and you saw the turmoil his; pain and anger and something that looked an awful lot like longing. 

"No. Ya don't get to- I'm gonna get this out, damn it," he insisted. "Then you can get around to turning me down or kickin' my ass or screamin' at me. Whatever the fuck ya want. But I get to tell ya love ya. I love ya, I ain't stopped lovin' ya, and I'm always gonna love ya. I fucked it up, ok? I fucked it up years ago and I been fuckin' it up ever since, and Merle kicked my ass about it more times'n you can count. I'm sorry. I know you're hurt and I know I deserve every time you look at me and get that flash of pain in your eyes." 

He crowded into you, so close you could feel the heat from him. Your eyes were filling with tears despite your best efforts, and you dug your fingertips into the cinder blocks, scraping the tips of your fingers and not caring. 

"But I also know ya watch me. You come find me. You curl up beside me and hold my hand and lean on my shoulder. Ya wanted to be friends again, and we are. And damn it, much as I hate it, it's ok if that's all we'll ever be again. But it won't be 'cause I didn't tell ya how I fuckin' feel. So. I fuckin' love you, you crazy bitch, and I always will." 

He closed the space between you and crushed his lips to yours, his hands on your arms pulling you to him. Your body responded while your mind was still trying to figure out just what the hell had happened right then, and you were pressed against him, hard, and kissing back. You reached for him as his hands gentled on your arms, one hand pressed flat to his chest as the other lingered on his cheek, melting into him as he took the kiss from hot and needy to slow and gentle while your heart burned.

Fuck, you shouldn't be- 

You couldn't- 

Goddamn it.

You jerked away, in one of the hardest things you'd ever done. You stared for a breathless moment from inches away, seeing a smear of blood from your fingertips on his cheek. Then you shoved past him to stand, breathing hard, in the middle of the room. You stared up into the dark cell doors of the second floor blankly. He didn't speak or move or try to touch you, thank God, as you raised a shaking hand to your lips.

"I can't, Daryl," you whispered finally. You kept your back to him, unable to look at him while you tried to get the words out. "I can't do this again. You- you broke me. I loved you so much; and I had forever- all I wanted was you and Merle and me, three of us against the world. Together. But you brushed me away and said you hated me; talking about me wanting Merle and- You said I ruined both of you. Maybe that was true, since Merle was- Merle was fucked up all the time. I was trying so hard to save him, but I was failing. You couldn't be in the same room with me for more than five minutes before we were trying to kill each other, constantly. I believed you; I believed I'd ruined you both and ruined myself too. Fuck. I was so damn broken. It's how I could do the things I did." 

You broke off and turned around, still not looking at him. "I can't do it again. I can't let myself love you and have you leave me again. I just- I wouldn't survive it, Dixon. I never stopped, either. I can't stop. I love you so damn much, Daryl. You're all I've ever wanted. But it- it doesn't matter. I- I can't." 

You went for the cell block door when he took a step toward you, and spent the rest of the night gripping the chain of the walkway cage and watching the sky change colors.


	49. Breaking the Law, Breaking the Law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

You geared up awkwardly the next morning. You didn't speak to Daryl and he didn't try to speak to you, and no one asked why you'd been outside before dawn. Either Daryl had made some excuse or literally no one had noticed or cared. Either option was fine with you as long as nobody asked you any questions.

You chose an extra blade from the pile and flipped it a few times in your hand, testing the weight and balance. You'd gotten good enough with a knife over the winter, but you preferred your gun. Rick was talking about some smoke grenade type shit he'd found on some of the dead guards and Shane looked delighted, like he'd found a new toy to play with. Some of the others were using the riot gear the walkers had been dressed in, but both you and Daryl had taken one look and refused. 

"Besides, leather turns their teeth away fine," you added with your nose wrinkled at the goo-covered helmet while you pulled your jacket on. 

Instant silence descended the room. 

"Well, fuck, I said that out loud didn't I?" you muttered, then met three pissed off expressions as Daryl, Shane, and Rick all started asking questions at once. "Hey, shit, all of you- I'm fine. It was one asshole; I did something stupid; but the jacket saved me. Do I need to strip and prove it?" You snapped the question with more than your usual amount of sarcasm, real annoyance backing it. Daryl was looking at you all concerned and like he was about to say something about you taking care of yourself, and you were so not in the mood right now, damn it. You met his eyes and dared him to speak.

"No. Just be more careful today," Rick ordered sternly.

"Well, maybe," Shane added with a wink and a grin. Daryl glared at him even as you rolled your eyes and flipped him off. 

 

 

You were worried about taking so many of your people with you, so you were glad Rick insisted that Carl stay behind. You still weren't sure taking Hershel was the best plan in the world either, and you might have wished maybe Maggie and Glenn or T Dog or someone else was staying back as a last line of defense as well, but Rick was the boss. So out you all went, you hanging back as Daryl and Rick lead the way. 

Shane waited for you, leaning in the doorway as the others headed into the depths of the place. He waved to Carl as the kid locked the cell block, then fell in beside you. The group moved ahead, spray painting arrows at every turn, while the two of you held your customary position of covering the rear. 

"So, wanna talk about it?" he asked casually, a couple turns in. 

"About what?" you whispered back, eyes moving in the gloom. There'd been bodies everywhere, and you were about to jump from your skin waiting for one of them to move.

"Whatever happened between you and Dixon last night. You have sex or something?" 

You stopped dead and stared at him, the irritation you'd been simmering with all morning flaring up into full-blown anger. "What the actual fuck, Walsh?" 

He shrugged, gesturing impatiently for you to keep moving. "The tension is palpable, Nameless."

You ground your teeth together but started out again, not looking at him as you cast your flashlight around another hallway. "We did not have sex." 

"Yeah? Maybe you should have." Shane's wink was especially lurid in the stark contrast between light and shadows that your flashlight beams created.

"Shut up, asshole," you growled at him, about two seconds away from decking him if he didn't shut the ever-loving fuck up. 

Thankfully, walkers chose that moment to come out of nowhere, and everyone started retreating. You and Shane were in the lead then as the group backed rapidly up the way you'd come- at least until walkers came out of two more side hallways and split your group into three. 

You glared at Shane as the two of you ducked one way and Rick, Daryl, Hershel, and T Dog went another. "Are you happy now? Where are Maggie and Glenn?" 

"Why is this my fault?" he shot back, clearly annoyed with your attitude. You didn't give a shit, since you were pretty annoyed by his attitude as well. 

"Ugh. Just come on," you hissed, sneaking behind one of the groups of walkers to rejoin Rick and the others.

 

 

You told Rick taking everyone was a bad fucking idea. But did he listen to you? No, of course not. 

Hershel'd gotten bit on the leg and walkers had closed in on both sides. You'd retreated hastily, Shane and Daryl on either side of you while you covered the group and Hershel screamed.

On the plus side, they found the cafeteria, which meant maybe you'd find something better than Mystery Mash to eat. On the minus side, you were pinned by walkers and Hershel was motherfucking bitten. 

Trust Deputy Grimes to spring to the rescue though. Out of the blue, Rick was hacking the old man's lower leg off with a hatchet. You seriously wondered how in the hell he knew that would save his life; but fuck, the man seemed sure. So you kept an eye on the doors and on the rest of the room and hoped to hell he was right. 

Then five faces suddenly appeared behind Rick. 

"Rick!" you snapped, gun up and aimed at them. Shane tapped your shoulder once as you advanced around Rick and the others, letting you know he was on your six, and you saw Daryl rise with the crossbow aimed as you passed him. 

"Holy shit," one whispered. "Who are you people?" 

"Who the hell are you?" you snapped back.

"He's bleeding out, we've gotta go!" Rick yelled. "No time; come on." 

"Oh, there's time," you muttered. Then you remembered the walkers that had flooded the halls and realized maybe you didn't have enough time to kick five live asses and fight your way back to the cell block. "Fuck! Rick, got your back. You assholes, come on out of there, slow and steady." 

They filed out and you narrowed your eyes as you took in the coveralls. They were prisoners, then. One of them pulled a gun when he found out Hershel'd been bit, and you almost put a bullet in him right there. 

"The fuck you think you're doing, dickhead?" you snapped, backing him up. Shane muttered something behind you, but he stayed your shoulder. 

Glenn went behind you into the area where they'd been hiding, checking for medical supplies and coming back with a rolling prep table to use as a gurney. You kept the asshole with the gun squarely in your sights until he put his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. 

"We got to go!" Rick yelled as they hauled Hershel up. "T, the door!" 

"You crazy? Don't open that!" One of the other prisoners- he had a truly glorious handlebar mustache that reminded you of your sergeant at arms- looked panicked at the suggestion. 

You smirked, even as Shane tapped your shoulder again to get you backing away. They were watching behind you as your people worked, and you could hear the sounds of a walker or two being taken down. "Don't worry. We got this. Bye, bitches." 

 

 

"Daryl, YN, Shane?" Rick called as he steered the cart through the hallway. 

Daryl jogged to the front, taking out a walker as you and Shane covered the rear. You heard the voices as the prisoners started following you, not that you were at all surprised. 

"Walsh?" you muttered. 

"Yeah, I see it. Just go, gotta keep the old man alive. Lori needs him. Deal with them in C block; without walkers to worry about as well," Shane answered, and you kept retreating backward. 

 

 

"Hey, boys," you suggested as you, Shane, and Daryl waited together for the prisoners to make it to C. "Why don't you let me handle these assholes? They're kind of my crowd, you know?" 

"Shit," Daryl muttered. "Probably ain't seen a woman in years. Think I'm gonna let you deal with them alone?" 

"I wasn't suggesting you leave," you snapped at him, rolling your eyes. "Just that you let me do the talking. You two cover me, but don't be obnoxious about it." You shoved your gun back down into the sheath and leaned back against the table, one hip up so your foot swung casually. 

"Got a plan, Nameless?" Shane asked, glancing over your head at Daryl. 

You shot him an irritated glare. "Of course I do, Officer Walsh." 

You picked up Daryl's set of keys when you heard the footsteps approaching, spinning them on one finger. The asshole with the gun slid through the door first, and his eyes locked on you as he moved into the room. 

"Far enough," Daryl snapped. You ground your teeth together. Two seconds in and he already wasn't letting you handle it. Typical Dixon, not fucking listening.

"Cell block C. Cell 4, that's mine, gringos," the gunman said. 

You rose from the table and rattled the keys in your hand. "Gents. I've got the keys to the kingdom, so how about we show you the fuck out?" 

"Who the fuck even are you?" he shot back, letting his eyes linger on your body. 

You smirked. "I'm Nameless. Who are you?" 

"Nameless? Like the guys in Atlanta?" The dude with the mustache spoke up, and you tipped him a lazy salute with the hand that held the keys. 

"Got it in one, man. So. Again. Names or get the hell out," you stated, raising your eyebrow at them. 

"Don't care who you are," the head asshole snapped. "That's my cell. Let me in." 

"Well, see, boys. That's the thing. You've officially been pardoned by the state of Georgia. You're free to go, and I highly recommend you take me up on that," you told them with a shrug. 

He smirked and grabbed the little snub-nosed pistol he'd waved at you earlier. "I don't think so. See, a group of civilians, breaking into a prison- got me thinking there's nowhere for us to go." 

"I look like a civvy to you?" you shot back. 

His smirk got stronger. "You look like a damn fine piece of ass, is what you look like, dollface." 

"Best shut the hell up, asshole," Daryl growled. 

You gave him a disgusted look. Was he serious right now? Some over-confident tool says one thing to you and Daryl comes over all protective? Like you couldn't fucking kick this guy's probably disease-ridden dick up into his own damn throat if you wanted to. 

"That your old man? Shit. Bet I'm bigger," the asshole said, grabbing at his crotch just in case you'd missed the mean while he sneered at Daryl. 

Oh for fuck's sake. 

You snorted, crossing your arms and shooting him an assessing look. "First off, no, he's not. I don't have an old man, you asshole. I'm my own free fucking agent. Second, have you seen the arms on him? Please. You're a fucking twig compared to him, I imagine in all the ways that matter. But he's right, you'd best shut the hell up," you snarled the last bit as his face got thunderous and he opened his mouth to speak again. "Now, here's the thing. I'm not a civilian. I'm a fucking enforcer for the Nameless, Atlanta chapter. And I asked who the hell you guys are."

The one with the mustache winced. "I'm Axel," he said. 

That had you blinking at him and grinning. "Like Axl Rose?" 

Daryl sighed behind you, like your obsession with eighties rock was a great fucking inconvenience. If he really fucking loved you like he claimed, he'd love that about you as well, right? Dick. 

You ignored him and your own angry internal monologue, though. "Whatever," you said, waving away the mustache man's blank look. "There's a start. What about the rest of you?" 

"That's Tomas with the gun. Andrew, Big Tiny, and Oscar," Axel continued. "Look, lady. I ain't part of no club like you, but I rode a little. Had a few run-ins with the Nameless. Real good people." 

You smiled at him, actually pleased to hear someone have something good to say about your people for once. So much association with cops and good citizens meant you mostly heard your club referred to like you were all a bunch of- 

Well, like you were all a bunch of criminals.

"Yes, we are good people. But not when idiots wave guns in our faces," you said, turning a glare on Tomas. "Maybe you want to put that down now. Before someone does something stupid." 

"Seems to me you're the one who's done something stupid. What the hell is going on in there? That's my cell and this is my prison. You're gonna let me in, bitch, and then maybe we'll see if I let you warm up my bunk at night, huh?" Tomas said, swinging his gun to aim it sideways at you, like a gangster fool in movie.

You rolled your eyes when he bit his lip and raised his eyebrows suggestively at you, not at all worried about this punk and his posing. Shane and Daryl, however, were not so calm about things, and Shane decided to take matters into his own hands. To be honest, you wouldn't have cared, since you were tired of all of them, but something about the way he chose that moment annoyed you. 

Actually, everything annoyed you, but especially this overprotective bullshit going on right now.

"Pretty sure you've been told by two people to shut your damn mouth," Shane snapped, stepping up to your side. "Suggest you start listening." 

"Don't you tell me what to do, asshole!" Tomas yelled. 

You sighed as he, Shane, and Daryl all started yelling at each other, seriously considering shooting all of them. Luckily, Rick came striding out from the block and yelled over the other three for everyone to calm down.

Thank God. This entire conversation reminded you of why you did not, in fact, want to be in charge. You were much better at busting balls and taking names than trying to keep situations calm and under control. 

"How many of you are in there?" Tomas asked. 

Rick gave him a hard stare. "Too many for you to handle." 

"Meet Tomas, Axel, Oscar, Andrew, and Big Tiny," you told Rick with a nod their way. "They're prisoners and mostly idiots, and from the way they've been talking, they have no idea what's going on out there." 

"We've been stuck in that cafeteria for going on ten months," Axel spoke up even as Tomas and Andrew bristled at your tone. "What do you mean? What's happened?"


	50. Shot Down In Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> sexual innuendo  
> general bitchiness

Out in the courtyard, the prisoners looked around, baffled. You kept an eye on Tomas, even as you held a conversation with Axel about bikes, Nameless you'd both met, and places you'd both been. Rick and Shane were eyeing you a little sideways, but shit. Criminals didn't bother you any.

Assholes with guns near you and yours did, though, and Tomas had annoyed the piss out of you.

Eventually, Tomas and Rick had a bit of a dick measuring contest to determine who was in charge. You didn't worry about it at all, knowing full well Deputy Grimes was a match for any of these shits. Besides, if he wasn't, you were. No matter what flavor of crime they were in there for, you could bet you'd done worse. 

When Tomas pulled his gun again, you kicked out, the worn heel of your boot striking perfectly on the asshole's hand. His gun went flying and he looked at you with wide, angry eyes. You found that far more satisfying than maybe you should have.

"He's in charge, asshole. Listen to him," you said in a bored voice. You crossed your arms and waited while Shane gave you a worried look behind Tomas's back.

"I ain't going back in that cafeteria for one more minute," Tomas said, holding the hand you'd kicked. 

Axel spoke up with the air of someone trying to smooth things over. "There are other cell blocks." 

"Or you could leave. Try your luck out on the road," Daryl snarled. He still had the crossbow aimed at Tomas's head, despite the gun on the ground that had flown and landed dramatically at Rick's feet.

"These three pussies and the bitch can do all this, the least we can do is clear out another cell block," Tomas finally said. He'd been engaged in a lengthy staring contest with Rick, who hadn't blinked even when you'd kicked the man's gun from his hand. 

Stone cold, your Deputy Grimes. 

"With what?" Big Tiny asked. 

Tomas and Rick struck a deal- half of what was left of the food in the cafeteria for your help clearing out another cell. You weren't sure it was the best idea in the world, but hey. Rick was the boss, and besides- you needed the food. 

"Why don't ya hang back? Cover the others and Hershel?" Daryl said to you in a low voice as they headed back into the cell block. 

You snorted and started to walk past him, not willing to dignify that suggestion with a response. He grabbed your arm as you did, forcing you to stop. 

You drew in a deep breath and looked pointedly at his hand on your arm. He let go with a snort of his own, holding his hand up in surrender. 

"I'm not hanging back," you told him shortly, and shoved past him to the door. 

 

 

"Seriously, Nameless, what is going on with you?" Shane asked as you brought up the rear on the way back to the cafeteria. "Daryl looks like he's ready to murder someone, and frankly? You're a crabby bitch today." 

"Jeez, thanks so much," you told him sarcastically. "Good to know, Officer." 

He didn't say anything else, and after a moment you found yourself talking again. 

"He told me he still loves me," you ground out from between clenched teeth. 

Shane glanced at you. "Okay." 

"What?" 

"Am I supposed to be surprised?" 

You huffed in annoyance, ready to explain to him all the reasons why Daryl was a dick for saying that, but you were at the cafeteria again. Rick obviously didn't trust any of these guys, and he had you stay at the doors while the rest of them hauled food. You did as asked, but for the first time you found yourself wondering if he had you keeping watch because you were a girl. 

Shit, you really were crabby if that's what you were thinking. Watching their asses, being ready to spring into action at the drop of a hat? That was your job. It was what you were good at. Rick knew that. 

Get it together, girl, you thought to yourself in annoyance.

 

 

Rick had you and Shane stay back with the prisoners, while he, Daryl, and T Dog carried your half of the food back. You leaned in the door and kept an eye on them and on the hallways. Shane stood, back against the wall on the other side of the open door. The prisoners all huddled together, but Tomas was giving you a leer. Again.

You flipped him off without batting an eye. 

"Come on, dollface. Don't be like that. Ain't seen a woman in ages, and you're a fine specimen. Can't blame a man for lookin'," he said, eyes raking over you again as he shook his head. 

Shane glared at the guy. "Cut it out, man." 

"Yeah? Or what? What you gonna do?" Tomas snapped, puffing himself up like a blowfish. 

Shane smirked and ran a hand over his head. His hair stood up where his fingers had gone through it, having grown back in a lot over the winter. You privately thought the hair was the key- as the hair grew, Shane got less strung out and more at ease with his conscience. Heaven help you all if he shaved it again. 

"Not me, man," he said now, nodding in your direction. "She'll kick your ass into next week and laugh doing it. Don't say I didn't warn you." 

Tomas scoffed, looking at you again. "Like to see you try, doll." 

"Call me doll one more time, asshole," you said flatly. "You might get to." 

"Everyone ready for this?" Rick asked with his usual superb timing as he and Daryl strode back into the room. 

Tomas eyes lingered like he wanted to fire back at you, but he didn't. You flashed him another smirk and returned to watching the hallway as Rick and Daryl started giving them instructions in Zombie Slaying 101. 

 

 

Rick paired the four of you off with the prisoners, taking Tomas for himself. You brought up the rear, watching their backs with Axel. 

Then, of course, they saw a couple of the dead and went all prison riot on them, completely ignoring all the instructions they'd been given. You stood there with Rick, Shane, and Daryl, staring as they beat and stabbed the thing in a yelling, screaming mob, hitting it everywhere but the goddamn head. 

"Oh you've got to be shitting me," you muttered. 

"Hey, they're your people," Shane comment, amusement lacing his voice. 

You groaned. "These are most definitely not my people. My people aren't idiots. These guys obviously are. Should have realized that; they're in here after all." 

"Well, to be fair, I did bust your ass," Shane said with a grin and a wink. 

You rolled your eyes and flipped him off. "Can we end this shit soon? I'm hungry, Deputy." 

 

 

They got the hang of it pretty quickly after you pulled your knife, walked into the middle of their fight, and put both walkers down in seconds. They got some practice in, Daryl coaching them, as a wave of walkers in prison blues came around a corner. You were keeping an eye on the rear when Big Tiny started to slink off. 

You moved off after him, trying to get the guy before he got bitten, but a couple of them came around the corner behind him. He hit one and it went down, and you grabbed the other and knifed it swiftly. 

"Come on, Tiny. You have to stay with the group, so someone can watch your six. Alone in a place like this, you'll be in trouble," you told him and he nodded rapidly.   
He looked sick, like this was too much for him. You supposed you could understand that, and you wondered what he was in here for. 

Big Tiny's eyes widened, and you felt something clamp on your shoulder. 

"Shit!" you yelled, jerking you shoulder forward and reversing your knife in your free hand. You stabbed over your shoulder, into the eye socket of the walker who had latched down onto the leather of your jacket and vest. 

As you yanked the blade free and the zombie fell behind you with a wet-sounding clatter, Big Tiny started screaming. You took a step in his direction and three shots rang out, bullets whizzing by your head and slamming into the walker. You froze in place, not really sure what to be dealing with first- Tiny, whichever asshole had just fired that close to you, though you didn't feel like there was much debate about which one that was, or double checking the zombie to be sure it was really, actually, completely dead this time. 

"YN!" Daryl's voice was pissed, and he was grabbing at your shoulder. "Ya bit?" 

"No, my leathers turned it," you told him, but you let him pull your jacket back. You shivered a little as his fingers slid over your skin, and you jerked away, yanking your jacket back into place. You pulled away from him, remembering that you were pissed at him, and tried to ignore the flash of hurt on Daryl's face.

"She good?" Shane called, and Daryl grunted a yes as you looked past him. Shane had a gun on Tomas, who was staring into Shane's eyes with an emotionless expression. 

Big Tiny groaned and you turned your attention to him. Rick was looking at his shoulder, and his face was grim. You met Rick's eyes and he nodded. His friends argued to save Tiny, while Rick tried to make them understand that there wasn't anything to be done. 

Then out of the blue, Tomas swung his crowbar and took the guy out mid-sentence. He kept swinging, too, blood spattering all over him and the wall, and you stared for a minute. 

Finally, you'd had enough. He drew back for another swing and you ducked under the crowbar, grabbed his wrist with one hand, and slammed him back into the wall with the other arm. You got your forearm over his neck and pinned him in place while he stared at you. 

"You shoot or swing that close to one of mine again, I'll put you down like you just did your friend," you hissed to him. "You nearly shot me, and believe me, that would not have been good for your health. Not get some fucking self-control, dick." 

"You ain't seen my dick yet, dollface," he said with a smirk. That was enough to send your frayed temper over the edge, and you brought your knee up into his groin. He double with a sharp gasp and you heard Daryl's snort and Shane's muffled laugh from behind you. 

"Eh," you said dismissively as you let go of Tomas and stepped back. "From what I felt, it wasn't anything impressive. Think I'll pass."


	51. You Can't Always Get What You Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> minor character death  
> more bitchiness

You made it to the laundry without any further incidents, and then shit fell apart again. As usual. 

Tomas the blood-soaked tool fucked it up and opened both doors at once, and zombies started streaming in. Everyone got to work, and in the chaos, it happened. Tomas swung and nearly hit Rick. 

"Deputy!" you yelled, but you were three people away and a little tied up with a dead guy of your own. 

That instant of distraction for you almost proved fatal, but Shane shoved you just enough out of the way for the snapping teeth to slide past your throat where they'd been headed. You got your knife in the thing's head, at the base of the neck as it fell past you, and then looked up to see Daryl stabbing a walker on top of Rick. Your eyes narrowed on Tomas as Shane dropped the last of the walkers, and you took several long steps and slammed Tomas back into the shelving unit behind him. 

"What the fuck was that, asshole?" you snarled at him. You'd warned him, hadn't you? Take a shot at one of your people again, you'd drop him like he'd dropped Big Tiny. 

You had your knife on his neck, ready to do it, when Rick set a hand on your shoulder and pulled you back. You reluctantly let Tomas down, glaring between him and Rick. He shrugged at Rick. 

"It was comin' at me, bro," he said. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I get it," Rick said slowly. "I get it. Shit happens." He and Tomas had a stare down while everyone stared, the room silent. 

When Rick swung, it surprised even you. Deputy Do Good wasn't exactly known for taking out others outside of the heat of the moment. Regardless, you spun and grabbed Andrew as the squirrelly little shit screamed and ran at Rick with his baseball bat. You had him in a choke hold in seconds, and Rick gave you a nod. 

"Easy now," you heard Daryl caution one of the others. 

"Let him go," Rick said grimly. You sighed and released your hold on the kid, but you snagged the bat out of his hands and spun it in your fingers. 

Shit, you kind of liked it. 

The kid ran and Rick headed out after him. Shane yelled over his shoulder for you and Daryl to hold the door while he took off on Rick's heels. You stepped back to regard Oscar and Axel, both under Daryl's hard gaze and covered with his crossbow. 

"On your knees," you told them. 

They complied, Axel babbling something about not being affiliated with what had just happened. Oscar said nothing, hands up and face carefully blank. 

"Boys, boys," you muttered, swinging the baseball bat to your shoulder and shaking your head at them. "What the hell are we going to do with you two?" 

 

 

When Rick and Shane came back, Shane was shaking his head. "Should have just shot him, man." 

"What happened?" you asked. Daryl had Oscar at crossbow-point and on his knees, while you were standing behind Axel, swinging the bat lazily in one hand. There had been silence in the room, from the prisoners and from you, since Axel's last attempt at pleading for his life had gotten under your skin and you'd swung the bat into the shelving unit behind his head. 

"Locked him out. With a bunch of walkers," Rick said flatly. 

"Cool," you answered. It was creative and unconventional, but still most likely permanent. You'd probably have some questions for the deputy about his mental state later, since he wasn't acting like the genuinely Nice Person who'd take a criminal from lockup to Atlanta because she'd said please. "How about these guys?" 

Rick pulled his Python and stalked over to Oscar. 

"We didn't have nothing to do with that," Oscar said simply. 

"You didn't know? You knew. Let's end this, now!" Rick snarled, turning on Axel. 

You shrugged and hit a batter's stance, ready to bash this shit's brains in. 

"Sir, please, you gotta listen to me! It was them that was bad. It wasn't us. You saw what he did to Tiny! He was my friend! Please, we ain't like that. I like my pharmaceuticals, but I'm no killer." Axel sobbed. "Oscar here is a B and E, and he ain't no good at it neither. We ain't the violent kind, they were!"

Rick's eyes met yours over the crying man's head and you shrugged. "What? Just because I'm a criminal doesn't mean I know all of them personally. Shit, Deputy. This is your call." 

 

 

Rick decided to let them live, and you escorted them to their new cell block and left them to clean the place out. Bodies of prisoners who'd been drug from their cells and shot execution style with their hands bound filled the doorways of the cells. 

"Shit," you whispered, looking around with wide eyes. 

"I knew these guys," Axel said softly. "They were good men. Guards must have shot 'em when the riots started." 

Your jaw tightened in anger. Killing people who threatened you was one thing. Killing walkers was one thing. Guards executing handcuffed prisoners was something that everyone, fairly universally, considered morally wrong.

"Drag the bodies outside and burn them," you suggested after a minute. You tried not to think about bodies going stiff with rigor mortis and with single gunshots to the forehead, wrapped in plastic and awkward in your arms. 

"We're locking down this part of the prison. It's yours now. Take it or leave it. That was the deal," Rick declared. 

"This is sick," Oscar muttered as Shane and Rick ducked out. 

You sighed. "Think this sick, you don't want to see what's outside. Sorry about your friends, though." 

"Please. You're in a club. You know not all criminals are murderers," Axel begged you. "You can talk to him. Convince him to let us in with you guys."

Daryl touched your arm as you stared at the two of them. You nodded without looking at him and backed toward the cell door. 

"I'll think about it," you told Axel quietly. 

 

 

"Ya cain't seriously be thinkin' about lettin' them in." 

You gave Daryl a long, silent stare. "Really? Why the fuck can't I?" you finally asked. 

He scoffed and glared right back at you. "Because we don't know nothin' about 'em. They're in fuckin' prison." 

"I would have been in prison if the zombies hadn't happened!" you snapped. 

He huffed and looked away. "That's different." 

"No, it fucking isn't," you muttered. 

The two of you walked in silence, trailing a few steps behind Rick and Shane. Shane glanced over his shoulder at you, jerked his head significantly at Daryl, and looked back at Rick before you could do more than glare at him. 

"Look, ya seem pissed at me for somethin'. Wanna tell me what it is?" Daryl finally said, annoyance lacing his voice. 

You stopped walking to turn your glare on him. "You honestly going to tell me you don't know?" 

His eyes flashed. "Yeah, I am. 'Cause I don't." 

"Last night? Big conversation? Ring any bells?" 

He laughed without any humor in it. "Yeah, maybe. Don't explain why ya pissed at me. Told ya, don't have to be anything more than friends, which is what I thought we were."

"Well, that was before you said you still love me," you snapped. 

He scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air wildly. "Why's that change us bein' friends?" 

"Because you can't do that! You can't just- just tell me you love me still and expect me to carry on like it never happened!" you exploded, voice rising with every word. "You hurt me, Daryl. I won't let you do it again! I just wanted my friend, damn it! I want it to be like it was before we ever got together, when we were just friends and there wasn't all this- this fucking mess between us!" 

"Yeah? Well, as you're fond of sayin', baby," Daryl sneered at you, eyes hard and jaw tight. "In the words of the philosopher Jagger, 'ya cain't always get what ya want'." 

You stared, possibly more enraged that he'd turned the Stones against you than you'd been about your entire fucking argument. He walked away with a shake of his head, shoving past Shane to head into the cell block. You waited for a minute, then followed him, not looking Shane in the eyes. 

 

 

You looked in on Hershel, squeezing Maggie's hand for a minute in yours. According to Carl, he'd stopped breathing and Lori had brought him back. You offered her a smile, touched Beth's shoulder, and backed out of the cell to leave them to watch over him. 

You headed outside the cell block, wanting some air and some quiet, to try to get rid of the cloud of anger hanging over you. You caught sight of Carol down in the guard run, kneeling over something, and briefly wondered if you needed to do something about that. 

Nope, you decided after a moment. Not your problem. 

You came to the same conclusion when Lori made her way out of the cell block to stand in the skyway between two of the buildings. You glanced up at her once, recognized the same look on her face as you probably had on yours, and promptly ignored her presence. 

 

 

Shane came out at the same time Rick did. Rick went to join Lori, and you eyed them curiously. Shane walked over to you. 

"What do you want, Walsh?" you asked him. You were leaning back against the wall, hands flat on the brick in a mirror of what you'd done last night while Daryl proclaimed that he'd never stopped loving you. Your fingers dug in reflexively, and you didn't stop at the sting of still-fresh scrapes on the rough brick. 

"Shit, you're a bitch today. So Dixon said what everybody knows, and you, what? Get pissed off and take it out on everyone around you?" Shane asked, standing hip cocked and glaring at you. 

Your eyes narrowed on him. "Seriously, what the fuck is your problem today?" you demanded. "You've been practically up my ass all damn day." 

"Ain't been up your ass ever, girl," he shot back. "Not even at the C.D.C. What's my problem? What the fuck's your problem, huh? You're crazy about Daryl! Everyone fuckin' knows it. Hell, I knew it even when you and I were screwing! And he's just as fuckin' crazy about you. You're tellin' me he told you as much last night, so you're pulling this bitch fest today? Shit," he said, shaking his head at you. "You're stupider than I ever thought." 

You stared at him for a long moment before pushing away from the wall. "You wanna go a couple rounds, Officer? Need to work some frustrations of your own out? I'm happy to oblige, any time. We can fight or hell, if you really want to, we can fuck. I could probably use a little tension release, and I've never minded hate sex." 

"Aww, shut the fuck up, Nameless. You know I'm right," he said, eyebrows lifted. "You're just being a stubborn bitch about it at this point. You've got somethin' most of us here, we dream about. Stop being a bitch and let the man's past mistakes go." 

You shoved Shane back a full step and followed him, up in his face. "You don't have any idea what you're talking about, Shane. He broke my fucking heart. He's the reason I am who I am!" 

"Yeah. Yeah, he did. He is. Maybe think about how much of the good parts of you are because of him, too," Shane fired back, eyes softening even as he still looked pissed. Before you could figure out what to say to that, he walked away rubbing his head and muttering about women.


	52. Nobody's Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past child abuse  
> mentions of potential rape/non con  
> mentions of potential child sexual abuse  
> mentions of assorted criminal activity

"Look, baby girl, I'm just sayin', he's as messed up as you are," Merle said, waving his beer in your direction. 

You scowled at him over your own bottle, toes tapping along as Billy Idol wailed about the midnight hour and crying more. "What the hell, Merle. He dumped me. Brutally. In front of the whole goddamn club!" 

"Yeah, yeah. I know. But shit, girlie, it was three years ago and it only improved ya reputation 'round here," he said with a shrug. 

"Well, that's great then," you muttered. "Doesn't matter that he broke my heart, just that my reputation didn't suffer for it. Good to know." 

"Come on, ya know I didn't mean it like that, darlin'," Merle said, voice softer. You sighed as he touched the back of your hand, turning your palm up and gripping his for a moment. "Just wanna help, ya know. Ol' Merle hates seein' you two at odds like this. Idea of ya happy together's what kept me goin' half the time, over there." 

He wasn't high for once, and that was such a rare thing you couldn't help but wonder what was going on. It'd been three years since he got back, and there'd been many conversations like this one between the two of you, with varying degrees of successful communication involved. Tonight's was better than the last one, screamed at each other in the Crow's parking lot after you'd punched Daryl about six months ago. 

To be fair to you, it wasn't like you'd just hauled off and hit him out of the blue, though God knew you'd thought about that more than once. Daryl had come in looking for Merle, seen you sitting on the lap of one of the new guys and sipping from his glass, and had chosen to pick a fight over why you weren't keeping an eye on Merle. You'd been instantly and strongly pissed off by that, since watching Merle was not your full-time job and you could sit in the lap of whomever you chose, thank you very much. 

Merle, it turned out, had been testing out some new product in his office and had come out high as a kite when the new guy had tried to stand up for you. 

Sweet idiot you'd been considering taking home for the night hadn't realized who Daryl was or that you didn't need backing up. It was mildly insulting, but you chose to overlook that. Then Daryl had brushed the guy off like a gnat sneering liberally at both him and you, and that had pissed you off even more. So you'd swung at Daryl, he'd let you, and he'd scoffed and stormed away. 

Merle drug you outside and screamed at you for awhile about swinging at his brother, and you'd screamed back about Daryl being a dick and you'd swing at whoever you wanted. Then none of you had spoken to each other for three days, until you'd gotten a call and come to clean up Merle's newest mess. 

Tonight he was sober- well, mostly; the two of you had been sitting at Billy's bar for two hours already, so sober was relative- and in a sappy mood. You eyed him as the jukebox clicked over to Joan Jett and the Blackhearts' love of rock and roll. 

"What's with you tonight, Merle?" you asked. 

He sighed. "Nothin', baby girl. Just want the two people closest to me to be happy, is all. Ya was happy together, both of ya are miserable apart. Just think if ya maybe talked about some shit, is all. Could work all this stuff out. Be happy together again." 

You shook your head. "We can barely be in the same room with each other, Merle. I don't think there's any way we could ever be friends again, much less get back together. Sorry, brother. I miss the way we all were too, but..." you trailed off with a shrug, polishing off your drink and lifting two fingers toward Billy. He nodded acknowledgement, and you turned the subject to the newest batch of hang-arounds the club had picked up. 

 

 

You dreamed about them that night. You and Merle and Daryl as kids, running through the trees behind your houses with AC/DC blaring all around you from invisible speakers. You were smiling, because it was you and it was them and it was freedom and happiness, but there was something wrong. The sky was made of cinder block and the woods smelled like a four-day-old carcass left out in the high-summer sun and something was chasing you. 

Your eyes popped open as they always did, reality crashing in around your ears in that dreadfully insistent way it had. You rose in the darkened cell block knowing full well you were done with sleep and wondered when you'd gone from a carefree kid to the kind of person who didn't bat an eye at zombies and bodies and murder. You wondered who you'd have been if you'd walked up to, say, Melissa Everette and sat down your first day in school instead of up to surly, annoyed-looking Daryl Dixon, with dirt on his cheek and his jeans ripped at the knees and his knuckles scraped and bloody even at eight years old. 

Would you have the blood on your hands you did now? If it weren't for Daryl ditching you, you'd never have become an enforcer. You wouldn't have been dead enough inside to get rid of bodies and pound people bloody and not bat an eye.

Or would you have been a victim; another statistic- just an abused and molested child who became an abused and used adult? Without Daryl's open window, without the escape and the promise of his and Merle's unwavering support, you'd never had been strong enough to resist when your asshole foster dad had finally come into your room. Would you have even made it out of that trailer to become a tough son of a bitch Nameless, or would you have been just another strung-out, burned-out, doped-out housewife, rotting away slowly somewhere even before you were dead? 

Shit. 

Officer Walsh was right, most of your life was shaped by the Dixon brothers in some way or another. The question was, how much of that was a bad thing?

 

 

Oscar and Axel wanted in, and Rick was dead set against it. So were most of the others. You leaned against the bus, arms crossed, not saying a word. Shit like this was a management decision.

When Rick called for your opinion you shrugged. If it was just you, you might have given them a chance. But you had Beth and Carl and Carol and Lori to think about, and they didn't know what they were doing with criminal types. Hell, Carl thought you were cool. That showed a distinct lack of self-preservation skills on his part. 

"Look, I get these guys, like Daryl said," you told Rick seriously. "I mean, shit. Criminals are my kind, right?" 

"You're different," Carol said, quietly insistent. 

You looked at her, eyebrow lifted in mild amusement. "Why? Why am I any different than they are? I covered up cold-blooded murder. Ran drugs. Ran a chop shop. Beat people up professionally. I may or may not have overseen the prostitution in the back of our strip clubs." You shrugged. "Hell, I got stabbed in the shoulder throwing some dick out of the back room for beating one of the girls bloody. I stabbed him back and landed him in the hospital for two weeks."

"What the hell, YN?" Daryl snapped, and you shot him a look as Shane grabbed his arm.

"Easy there, Dixon. One problem at a time, man," he muttered, pulling him a couple of steps away to mutter into his ear. 

"Point is," you continued, refocusing on Rick and brushing whatever had crawled up Daryl's ass this time away. "I get these people. T Dog is right; we should give them a chance, for the good of humanity. Unfortunately for them, I'm not a good human. They stick to themselves or they go." 

 

 

Daryl was busy having a passionate discussion with Shane, probably about what to do with the crazy bitch who obviously couldn't be trusted to handle herself despite that being your fucking job, so you swung onto Merle's bike and turned the key. 

"Twin cylinder. That a Triumph?" Axel asked, arms crossed. "You can kick her to life?" 

You met his eyes, a smirk forming on your lips. You didn't respond, just kicked down the start and the engine roared on the first try. 

"Didn't want it bored out?" he pressed. "Sounds like it could use a tune up. I'm pretty handy with a wrench!" 

You gunned it, playing with him, and flashed him another smirk. "Yeah? So am I. Mine's red and pretty. Use it for bikes and zombies." You floored it as Daryl started your way, looking ready to kill. You roared past them, letting Glenn, Shane, and Daryl handle the prisoners and the gate. 

 

 

"We need to fuckin' talk," Daryl snarled, grabbing your arm as you brushed past him. 

You shot him a look, every bit of your middle-of-the-night attitude change dissolving back into anger at his tone. "No, I really don't think we do, Dixon." 

"Well, I think ya wrong," he said firmly. "So stand there and shut the hell up if ya want, but I've got somethin' else to say to ya." 

"Really? What's that? I think you've said what needed saying, Daryl, and more than a few things that didn't!" you snapped, pulling your arm out of his grip. 

He glared at you. "What the hell is wrong with ya? I get it. Ya don't want me to love you anymore. Well, tough shit." 

You scoffed, shaking your head and scuffing the toe of your boot on the ground. "Daryl. It's- I just- Fuck it. I can't do this." 

You whirled and started to walk away, but he grabbed you again. He yanked you back toward him, caught the punch you started to throw because you were so tired of being manhandled by him, and kissed you, hard. Then he let you go again all at once. You stood for a moment, breathing hard and seeing red you were so angry, and somehow still thinking about throwing yourself back into his arms and seeing where another kiss like that might lead. Damn him.

"I get it, baby. I fucked it up and you're afraid I'll leave again. I ain't goin' anywhere. You can be a bitch to me all ya want, but I've got ya fuckin' back. Always have." 

"Oh please!" you snapped. The urge to kiss him again went away at his words. Your fight instinct was always strong with Daryl. "You deserted me for five years, asshole!" 

He smirked and shook his head, looking really fucking smug. Like he knew what you'd been thinking moments before. "Naw. You just thought I did. Yeah, ya got into some shit I didn't know about, like gettin' stabbed. What the hell? That why the key tattoo, cover a scar?" 

You were going to get whiplash from this conversation, you decided as you struggled to keep the fuck up. You stared at him and lifted an eyebrow. "You really want to talk about my tattoos right now?" 

"You cover your devil?" 

Your eyes shot instantly to his arm before you jerked them away, and your jaw tightened. "Wouldn't you like to know?" you ground out from your clenched teeth.

If Walsh had told him you still had that, you would kill them both, damn it.

He smirked, that lazy satisfaction growing in his eyes. "That's what I thought."

"Oh, bite me, you asshole!" You flung that out at him to keep from punching him, but if he kept looking at you like that-

He stepped toward you and you took a step back, knowing full well if he got his hands on you again you were probably done for. Damn that arrogant bastard, what the hell was he doing to you? His smirk moved to a grin. 

"Baby, we been friends a long damn time. I know every move ya got to make, girl. I know when you're bein' a bitch to try to hide how ya feel and when ya really don't want someone around. Who the fuck you think scared off all those asshole who started harassing ya right after we broke up?" 

"After you dumped me," you muttered, but you were eyeing him in confusion now. There had been a few weeks where every fucking member of the club wanted a piece of you, it seemed. You'd gotten more offers- increasingly disgusting ones as time went on- than you ever had, and this was before you'd really started just beating the shit out of anyone. Hell, it was part of why you'd started beating the shit out of everyone. 

Then, abruptly, it had stopped. You always figured Merle had stepped in or something. 

"Thought it was Merle, didn't ya? Yeah, I know you. Always thought it was Merle who looked out for ya. Naw, it was me," Daryl stepped toward you again and this time you held your ground. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing your heart was pounding and your throat was dry. 

"I'm here. I'm an idiot and an asshole and I deserve the punishment if ya need to deal it out some more, but you won't drive me away. I've always been good at chasing you down and makin' you talk to me, haven't I? I love ya, you stubborn bitch." 

You punched him clean in the nose when he bent to kiss you again, then walked away while he laughed. 

 

 

You stalked into the cell block, fuming. Your internal tirade against overprotective, asshole exes who thought they knew shit about you came to an abrupt halt when you were met with one of the best sights you'd seen in a long time. 

"Well, well, well," you said with a grin, leaning on the door frame. "Nice to see you up and about, old man." 

"Why thank you, miss," Hershel said with a smile. He might not have been your best friend in the world, but he'd certainly warmed up to you over the winter. You were genuinely pleased to see him moving around so well with the crutches. 

"Headed out?" you asked, retreating backward as he, Lori, Beth, and Carl kept coming closer. You helped guide him down the stairs, grinning as he made it. 

"Ready to race, Hershel?" Carl asked. You laughed and Hershel smiled. 

"Give me a couple of days. I'll take you on," he told Carl. 

You looked over the yard, stepping back to let Hershel have some freedom, since the others were determined to hover. Daryl, Glenn, Shane, and Rick were in the guard run, handfuls of firewood dumped on the gravel like Rick had planned. Maggie, T Dog, and Carol were over with the cars, and you felt a flash of guilt. You'd been slacking, pissed off from your conversation with Daryl. 

And hell, a little guilty because of Daryl. 

The man had a point about you being a bitch to hide how you felt. Goddamn him and his sneaky fucking tricks. Making you feel something other than anger. Making you think about how you felt instead of just reacting. You could almost hear Merle's exasperated voice in your head telling you to 'cut that shit out and talk to the boy, baby girl!'

You glanced over as Hershel picked his way a little further into the courtyard Carl and Beth teasing him and cheering him on, but you stayed in place at the fence. Lori joined you, one hand under her stomach. 

"Are you ok?" she asked, and you shook your head with an angry laugh. 

"Why are you asking me that? You're the one about to have a baby, Lori. Jesus, shouldn't you be, like, sitting down or something?" 

She chuckled. "I didn't think you'd had any kids. I'm fine. I'm pregnant, not an invalid. Hate being pampered like everyone's been doing." 

"You need it," you told her stubbornly. 

She shook her head. "I still hate it. That's why I've let him up. Know how much it sucks being treated like an invalid."

You watched Hershel joke with Carl and Beth, a sympathetic smile playing on your lips. "Oh, yeah. I get that too. I was in this wreck when I was Beth's age- awful. Got impaled, right through the side, with a broken piece of my own bike. Daryl and Merle were the only people I had, since I'd run away from my foster family- long story- so they lied about my age and pretended Daryl and I were married so they could get any information in the hospital, you know?" 

She shook her head a little, in bemused disbelief. "I cannot even imagine the life you've had, YN." 

You shrugged. "It wasn't anything. I'd wrecked plenty of times already. Sure, that one was worse and I needed the help, but the hovering! Daryl, Merle, all of them- I fucking hated it. Even when I got home, Daryl acted like I was about to die with every breath. I might have cussed him out a few times," you muttered. 

She laughed. "Oh, I can't imagine that put him off any." 

"No," you agreed. "Didn't stop either of them. They were always there for me. He's always there for me," you whispered, looking at Daryl now. He was grinning and watching Hershel, arms crossed as he talked with Rick, Glenn, and Shane. 

"Shit, Lori," you whispered. "I might be fucking things up." 

She gave a crystal clear laugh and patted your hand where you gripped the fence. "Well, honey- you're in good company. I'm kind of an expert on fucking things up, aren't I?"


	53. Dust In the Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> major character death (cannon)  
> angst

The air smelled like burned tires and asphalt and antiseptic, and that combination made absolutely no sense. Pain laced through you, starting in your stomach and spiraling out, with a strange numbness at the center like the eye of a hurricane. Something liquid was on your hands and you could dimly hear the sound of pacing and someone calling your name in a frantic voice. 

Your eyes opened with a gasp into the dim grey light of Merle's bedroom, and you frowned. You were in the apartment he and Daryl split, and few steps up from the dingy shit hole he'd been living in when you first moved in with him. You'd moved into your own place a few months before, though half the time you were all together in one place or another anyway, and you wondered why you were paying two rents. The fuzziness of sleep was fading away, and you sat up slowly. The pain from the dream you'd been caught up in still throbbed through you dully, centered under the bandage around your abdomen. 

Getting a piece of your bike embedded in your own innards was no joke. 

You tried to stand, wanting water, but you swung your legs around too fast. You let out a short scream, cutting it off with as soon as you could; but it was too late. Rapid footsteps paused outside the door, then it opened without a knock. 

Daryl leaned in the doorway, crossed his arms, and frowned at you. You were slumped over, sitting on the side of the bed with your feet at least successfully on the floor and your hand pressed to your side as if that would make your organs stop screaming bloody fucking murder at you. You still managed to glare at him, though. 

"What the hell do you think ya doin'?" he asked. 

Your glare intensified. "I want some water." 

"So ya should have called for me," he shot back. 

"For shit's sake, Dixon, I can get some damn water if I want," you snarled stubbornly, trying to rise. 

You grimaced and sat back down with another yelp before you'd gotten even halfway to your feet. 

"You were sayin'?" Daryl said from the door. He sounded vaguely amused, but with that worried undertone that colored his every word for weeks. He and Merle both always sounded worried, always wanted to help, always kept such close fuckin' eyes on you. 

You were sick of it. 

You needed it. Damn it. 

"Are you going to stand there and gloat, or are you going to come help me up?" you snapped, pain and helplessness combining to make you a royal bitch. You could hear it, you could feel it, you were almost sometimes sorry for it, but there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it. 

Daryl snorted again, muttering something nasty under his breath as he walked into the room. His hands were gentle, though, as he pushed your tangled hair back from your face. "Come on, girl. Don't stress. Only been home a couple days, baby. Just takes time." 

"I was in the hospital for weeks!" you snarled. "I want to get on my damn bike again!" 

"You totaled your bike," he pointed out, fingers lingering on your cheek. 

You scowled at him. "Thanks, I feel so much better."

He grinned. "I's hopin'. Come on, baby. Let us help ya, ok? You stitched the two of us up enough times, we owe you some." 

"You don't owe me anything, Daryl," you told him seriously. "You got me out of there. I think you more than repaid some pretty shitty basic first aide. I'm the reason you've got those scars." 

"Naw, y'aint. Will's the reason," Daryl snapped back, anger in his face and voice for the first time since he'd literally carried your bitchy ass into Merle's room from the truck. "You're the reason Merle'n' I ain't dead on that trailer floor. Now, ya gonna let me help you or what?" 

You groaned and rolled your eyes. "Fine, damn it. You've been holding me up so long I've got to piss now anyway." 

"Cranky bitch," he muttered, but his arm around you was warm and gentle and he didn't comment when you leaned into him. 

"Mother hen," you shot back, even as you tipped your head to his shoulder and he steadied you on your feet. "Thanks, Dixon." 

 

 

You heard the snarls at the same moment Carl yelled. 

"Walkers! Look out!" he cried, grabbing for his gun. Your hand dropped to yours, and you shoved Lori behind you. There were a shit ton of the dead fucks, streaming in behind you, undoubtedly from the gate Rick and Daryl had closed when you took over the place. 

"Shit! Come on, Lori. Stay with me," you snapped, backing up as you started picking the walkers off. "Carl!" 

"I've got Hershel!" Carl yelled back, covering the old man while he and Beth moved slowly but determinedly toward the next building over and the cage in front of its door. 

You and Lori were shooting, picking them off one by one, but there were too damn many. You were starting to get stressed even as Hershel and Beth made it to safety and Carl made his way over to you and Lori. Then there were more guns firing as Carol, Maggie, and T Dog skidded into the fray. 

"Gate's open," you snapped. "T, cover me!" 

"No, I got it!" he yelled. "Get Lori and Carl!" 

"YN! Lori! Carl! In here!" Maggie screamed from the gate to C. You grabbed Carl's arm and hustled him with you into C block, muttering the whole time. Maggie led the way down with Carl and Lori between you. You covered them from the rear, determined to grab some ammo and head back out as soon as they were secure in the cells. 

That plan was scrapped rapidly as walkers came boiling out from the cell block and you were hustling them all down into the darkened hallways where Hershel'd been bitten instead, Maggie at your side. 

The alarm started blaring as you walked, trying to find somewhere to hole up until the others could handle the problem outside and in the cells. You started swearing in time to the alarm, steadily and imaginatively, until Carl laughed at something he definitely shouldn't have overheard and you winced. 

And then Lori hit the wall and groaned. 

"Oh, God, no," you muttered when she said something wasn't right. "Now? Jesus fucking tap dancing Christ!" 

"Oh. Oh, God," Maggie said, eyes widening. 

"I think the baby's coming," Lori confirmed, and walkers came around the corner. 

 

 

You got boxed in by the zombies, and Carl lead you down into the boiler room. Maggie supported Lori, and you helped the kid get the door closed and stayed put guarding it. 

"What are those alarms?" Lori asked, panting and covered in sweat. You didn't know a ton about medicine, and even less about childbirth, but you knew enough to know that something was definitely wrong. 

"Don't worry about it," Maggie soothed her while you held a rapid, raging internal debate. 

Do you try to run for help, or do what you could for her where she was? 

Lori made the decision for you, with a scream that had you shoving your gun into Carl's hands and heading to help Maggie get Lori's pants off and laid down. 

"You done this before?" you asked Maggie in a grim undertone. She glanced at you once, eyes wide and jaw tight, and that was enough. 

"Right," you muttered. "Ok, Lori, it's going to be fine." You lied through your teeth and you were pretty sure you did a shit job of it, but what else were you supposed to do? It wasn't like Lori was listening to you anyway. 

"I'm going to check to see if you're dilated," Maggie told Lori. You didn't even really know what that meant, and you were suddenly intensely grateful that Maggie was there. Even if she was just making shit up as she went along the same as you. 

"Do you know how?" Carl asked wildly. 

"Dad taught me, but trust me, it's my first time," Maggie replied. 

Well, that was encouraging. Maybe. 

A few minutes later, Lori was demanding to push, climbing to her feet and groaning while Maggie stayed calm and encouraged her. You honestly had no idea what the fuck to do, because stitching beaten-up bikers and assisting the EMT who hung out with your club in a few more complicated procedures did not in any way prepare you for a woman giving birth in a boiler room of a prison while her kid looked on terrified and motherfucking zombies walked around just behind the door. 

Then Maggie said something was wrong, and Lori screamed like she'd been gutted, and Maggie's hand was covered in blood. 

 

 

Lori was begging for Maggie to do a C section. She wanted her baby to live, even if it meant the certainty that she wouldn't. 

You stood, trembling, jaw clenched, as Maggie protested and Carl cried. Carl held Lori's hand as she insisted. 

"Lori, I don't know- I can't-" 

"I will," you heard yourself saying, voice tired and blank. "I will." 

You pulled your knife, bumped Maggie out of the way as she looked at you, fear and panic all over her eyes, and told her firmly that she'd have to talk you through it. It wasn't like you'd done this before. 

But doing the hard things was your job, right? You did what nobody else could. Like leaving Shane and Otis behind to save Carl. Like shooting Sophia. Like killing Tony. Like being ready to shoot Dale. Like making Shane leave you injured and alone in a field full of walkers. 

Like, apparently, doing an emergency C section on a woman without anesthesia or any fucking knowledge of how to do what you were about to do. Nerves of steel and steady hands were about all you brought to this party, but that was clearly going to have to be enough.

"Carl? Baby, I don't want you to be scared, okay? This is what I want. This is right. Now you- you take care of your daddy for me, all right? And your little brother or sister, you take care--" Lori was talking to Carl, clearly saying goodbye.

"You don't have to do this," he interrupted, tears in his voice.

Your heart clenched and you forced it aside. You forced aside blood-smeared plastic and bodies with holes in their heads and the heat of an incinerator. You forced aside dark roads and Merle's laugh and the smell of vomit and weed and piss, a little girl's dead eyes clouded in a rotting face, Dale with his blood all over the ground. 

"You're gonna be fine. You are gonna beat this world. I know you will. You are smart, and you are strong, and you are so brave, and I love you," Lori said firmly. 

"I love you too," Carl told her, and already you could hear it in his voice. Resignation, acceptance, distance. 

"You gotta do what's right, baby. Promise me, you'll always do what's right. It's so easy to do the wrong thing in this world. So don't- so if it feels wrong, don't do it, all right? If it feels easy, don't do it. Don't let the world spoil you. You're so good. You're my sweet boy. The best thing I ever did. I love you," her voice broke and Carl threw himself, sobbing, into her arms. They held each other for a few minutes before Lori gathered herself and pushed Carl back. 

She looked you in the eyes. "When this is over, you're going to have to-" 

"Yes," you told her without hesitation. If you could get through the C section, putting her down would be the easy part. 

"Don't let Rick- it can't be Rick-" 

You set a hand over hers. "Lori. It won't be. I've got his back, ok? I promise." 

"I know you do. You have since the moment I saw you standing at his side, in Atlanta," she smiled at you. "You've got both of their backs. Don't let Shane go crazy again. Don't let them kill each other over this. Over the baby, or over me." 

You snorted and shook your head at her. "I won't. They might kill me, but I won't let them kill each other." 

"Ok," she whispered, nodding. "Ok. Do it, YN. Do it." 

 

 

"Maggie, take the baby. Maggie!" you snapped, bloody to your elbows and holding a newborn that you had even less idea of what to do with than you had a pregnant woman's emergency delivery. 

But you were good at cutting people. Usually for torture purposes, but you'd made it work. 

Carl grabbed your hand as you leaned forward to do what Lori'd asked. 

"I'll do it. She's my mom."


	54. Just Like Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> smuttiness

Carl strode past you after the single shot, handing you the gun you'd passed to him what felt like days before. 

"Come on. We've got to get my sister out of here." 

 

"We're goin' back in there. Shane, Daryl, you come with-" 

Rick was mid-order when the baby started to cry. Everyone's heads turned in slow motion as you pushed open the cage door and stepped out. 

"Holy shit," someone said, and nobody moved for a long moment.

Then Rick dropped his hatchet and lost his mind, and Maggie tried to hold him back from going in there after Lori. You stepped back to block the entrance to the cell block, because no way. No way were you letting Rick go in there. 

You had a feeling, somewhere in the distant corner of your mind, that you weren't exactly thinking straight. It didn't really matter to you all that much. 

Rick fell to the ground, weeping, and the baby started wailing. Maggie was crying in Glenn's arms, still holding the baby, when Shane spoke. 

"Nameless?" he said slowly. "You ok?" 

Your eyes snapped to focus on him. "I'm fine."

Shane's expression said clearly that he absolutely, one hundred percent did not believe you, but he didn't say anything else. He looked from you to Daryl to Rick on the ground to the baby, like he didn't know what the fuck to do. Shit, you could sympathize.

You forced your mind to kick into gear, feeling kind of like a cd skipping as your brain jerked from subject to subject and things kept happening that you didn't remember actually noticing, hoping that if you just kept moving you wouldn't think about anything that you were trying very very hard not to think about.

"What are we going to feed her?" you asked as Hershel looked at the baby, who was now in Carl's arms. Rick had gone catatonic on his knees, and Daryl's intense stare was boring holes into you as if he could see how messed up your brain was from the outside. You ignored Daryl because you absolutely could not, at all, one bit, afford to lose your shit right now. 

"She seems healthy. But she needs formula, and soon, or she won't survive," Hershel answered. 

Ok. Formula, diapers, bottles, wipes. Obtaining assorted baby necessities was something you could think about. 

You nodded, shoving the gun you'd still held in your hands into your thigh sheath. "Ok. I'm taking the bike, going for a run." 

"You ain't goin' anywhere," Daryl snapped, speaking for the first time since you'd pushed open the gate and led Maggie and Carl out of your own person hell. 

You didn't bother to respond, striding away toward where the vehicles had been parked earlier. He could fucking fight about it all he wanted; you were going to keep that damn baby alive. 

After all, you'd just killed her mother to make that happen.

 

 

"Damn it, baby, if ya gonna be stupid, I'm comin' with you," Daryl snarled as you turned the key on the bike and swung a leg over it. "Get the fuck to the back. You ain't in no state to drive." 

You stared at him blankly for a minute while he scowled. 

"Longer you stare at me, the longer it fuckin' takes to leave," he growled after a heartbeat. 

You shrugged and swung off again, letting Daryl take your place and kick the thing to life. When the motor roared, you jumped on behind him. You went to wrap your arms around him and got a glimpse of your hands. 

They were covered in blood, up past the edges of your jacket's sleeves. You'd stripped the jacket off before you'd started; before you'd set the point of the knife on Lori's stomach and she'd started screaming- 

"Hold the fuck on or ya gonna fall off, girl!" Daryl's voice shattered the screaming echoing in your ears and you latched on tightly to him. He took off with a squeal of tires. 

The minute your arms wrapped around him you started to crack apart, somewhere deep inside. Your hands clenched and gripped onto his shirt as you pressed your face into his back, taking comfort you probably hadn't earned from the feel of him strong and solid and warm against you. 

 

 

It took about two minutes for you to realize it was a damn good thing he'd insisted on coming along, since you had no idea where in the fuck you were going. He drove to a day care center of some type, judging from the playground, and you spent the whole ride staring at nothing with your cheek on his shoulder and your hands locked on his shirt. He didn't say a word about it, and you were grateful. 

You were trying to short out the sound of Lori screaming, Carl sobbing, Maggie's voice shaking as she told you what to do. 

"Company's close, baby. Ya with me?" Daryl said, half turning on the bike's seat when he cut the engine and you didn't move. 

You shook yourself out of your head and let go of him, swinging off the bike and pulling your knife. It was sticky with blood still, like your hands, and you swallowed hard to keep from puking right there. 

Daryl smashed one of the windows and you climbed into a nursery. You started filling the bag he'd handed you with anything you could find while he kept an eye out. Then you moved onto the next room. 

You'd cleaned out two rooms, trying not to think about where all the kids were now, when you both heard something banging and scratching around. You went to either side of the doorway, Daryl gripping his flashlight in his teeth, and covered each other going in. Whatever it was was in the closet, and you reached for the handle at Daryl's gesture, praying harder than you ever had that there wasn't some dead little boy or girl waiting for you in there. 

You were pretty sure neither of you could stand another Sophia. 

"Hello, dinner," Daryl mumbled around the flashlight when he dropped the possum. You rolled your eyes. 

"That's not going in the bag with the baby stuff," you told him firmly. 

 

 

Five minutes later you were standing in what was obviously the office, holding a picture of a smiling woman and her tiny newborn in a hospital bed. The baby was sleeping, rosy-cheeked and bundled into a blanket like a complicated little burrito, and the mom looked exhausted and absurdly happy for someone who had clearly just pushed life into the world. 

Your fingers stuck to the frame like they stuck a little to everything, since Lori's blood had dried to a tacky crust over your hands now. 

You heard footsteps behind you and you sniffed back the tears, hoping you could get yourself under control before Daryl came in and asked if you were ok. Biology apparently wasn't going to cooperate with you, though, as the tears just came faster. The footsteps slowed and stopped, and you stifled a sob with the back of your other hand. 

"Shit, baby," Daryl whispered. After a pause, he grabbed your shoulders and turned you around to look at him. You dropped your eyes from his face, shaking your head to try to tell him no, not to comfort you, you didn't deserve it- 

He did it anyway, taking the picture from your hands and pulling you into him until your face was pressed to his neck and his arms were wrapped tightly around you. 

"C'mon, girl, I know ya. Let it out, damn it, then talk to me," he muttered into your hair as he held you close. 

 

 

He wiped your eyes when you were done crying, calluses on his fingers rough against your skin. He let his hands lingers on your face, staring into your eyes with his full of sympathy and something else. "Tell me," he said simply. 

You shook your head in mute denial, not willing to burden him with it- Lori's shrieks; blood welling up and pouring over everything; Maggie's broken voice hitching and stuttering as she took you through the steps; Carl's eyes dry and his face a blank, pale mask. What it felt like to have your hands up to your elbows in another human being's stomach, trying to save the tiny life inside them even as you ended covered in the blood of a woman you knew. 

No. You couldn't lay that on him. 

Not now. Probably not ever. 

"I can't," you finally whispered. "I can't do that to you." 

He snorted, looking mildly insulted. "I can take it." 

You shook your head again, your cheek bumping into his palm. He'd let one hand fall to your shoulder, but kept the other against your face. "Maybe you can. But I can't take being the one who puts it on you." 

He sighed, eyes going soft with pain as he looked into yours before stroking the backs of his fingers over your cheek. Something in you clicked over when he did, and you shivered under his touch, craving it while knowing it was such a damn bad idea. 

"Jesus, baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered to you. 

You shook your head rapidly, bringing your hand up to press your fingers to his lips and make him stop. You froze without completing the motion, unwilling to touch him with your hands covered like they were. How poetic, right? Your hands covered in blood, and you wanting so badly to touch him but you couldn't. Not while you were the way you were. 

You shoved the warmth of him into the back of your mind and focused on what you were trying to say. "No. Don't- Daryl, don't. I've been such a fucking bitch to you. Don't you dare tell me you're sorry." 

It was his turn to look confused as hell. "What the fuck ya talkin' about, YN?" 

"Me. Us. I've been an asshole to you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Daryl," you whispered, shaking your head again. He was looking at you like that, and all you could think about was how damn adorable he was when he was confused. "Look, I don't- I can't talk about it right now. About us. I can't deal with that shit. But I- this is so damn selfish." 

You broke off and set your forehead on his shoulder for a moment, and his fingers slid to the back of your neck and curled loosely against your skin. You pushed back upright and tried to step away, knowing what a selfish bastard it made you for wanting what you wanted. His fingers on your neck burned like the heat of a thousand suns, and you were so damn aware of how little effort it would take to be wrapped around him. You were going to make him back away, you were going to be a damn grown up and not a scared girl running to her source of strength in the most destructive way possible. You were. 

But of course your mouth had other plans, and when you met his eyes, the wrong words came out. You wanted him, damn it, and you were tired of fighting it. "It's so selfish of me, but please. I need- I-" 

You broke off in frustration and slammed your lips into his. Words were failing you, and what you needed- if you were going to be this close to him, and apparently you didn't have another choice in that- was him. 

His hand went from resting on your neck gently to a fist in your hair, gripping tight as he kissed you back for a long, heated moment. Then he tugged on your hair, breaking the kiss to glare at you. 

"What the fuck was that?" he snarled. 

Shame and guilt stabbed into you, centered in your core and worse than any part of your bike impaling you. 

"You're right," you whispered, eyes filling again and scrubbing your hand over your face before you remembered the blood. Luckily it was dry enough now that all you did was rub flakes of it off the back of your hand. 

"Jesus, Daryl, you're so right. I'm sorry. I'm such a bitch," you muttered, voice cracking as you tried not to cry again. "I don't- goddamn it. I don't mean to be like this. I push you away, then I ask to be friends, then I shove you away again and again. Now I'm sad and exhausted and all I want is you. You're home and comfort and always have been, and you're what I want when I'm hurting. But it's not fair to you, and-" 

He hauled you into him again by the hand in your hair and his arm locked around you, swallowing the apology on your lips with his. After another heated moment where your treacherous hands found their way under his shirt, digging into his back, as you tossed yourself into the fire with wild abandon, he broke away with a groan. 

He didn't go far this time, forehead against yours as he spoke in a low growl, his lips brushing yours with every word. 

"I know this is a damn mistake, aight? Ya just fucked up and wanna feel alive. Don't give a shit. I'll take what I can fuckin' get, for now. Tired of bein' damn close to you, seein' ya hurt, and not bein' able to do anything about it. Fuck it, baby, I just want ya. Goddamn fucking mistake for us both. Shit." 

You didn't really have time to register the words before his mouth was back on yours with bruising force and he was shoving you backwards, up against the wall. He reached over and slammed the office door closed, dragging the chair from the desk up under the handle without breaking the hot kiss he had you trapped in.

Then he had both hands on your skin, shoving your jacket off your shoulders before running his hands over your body and down to fumble with your jeans. You'd been right when you asked Carol if the two of you were fire and gasoline, because you were burning. You were the gas and he was the fire- you the reckless element that took something warm and wonderful and made it wild and deadly and destructive, accelerating its end even as it burned you to nothing along with it. You wondered what kind of devastation this moment was going to leave in its wake; if maybe what was turning to ash and dust was any chance of lasting friendship between you. 

But your hands were all over him just as his were on you; so lost in the heat and the glow you didn't, for one single moment, even consider about stopping.


	55. I'm Not Foolin', I'm Not Foolin' Myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Neither of you spoke, just grabbing your clothes and the bag of supplies and heading back to the bike. You held on to him far more loosely than on the way there, already starting to wonder what the hell you'd just done and just how royally you'd fucked up.

Daryl went straight for the wailing baby when you got back, and Maggie and Beth came straight for you. Shane glanced over you from where he was, perched behind Carl and watching Daryl hold the little girl. You didn't meet anyone's eyes, just glancing over what was left of your group to make sure everyone was ok. 

"Rick?" you asked Glenn in a low voice as he came in behind you with Axel and Oscar on his heels. Glenn's jaw got tight and he shook his head. 

Shane walked over to you, eyes raking over you like he knew something. "Rick disappeared into the other half of C block right after you left. Glenn went in after him and Rick got a little violent." 

You raised an eyebrow at Glenn, more concerned about him than about the deputy. "You good?" 

"I'm fine. Worried about Rick, though," he said grimly. 

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, between your eyes, tiredly. "I got it." 

"Nope," Shane said calmly. "I'm not gonna let you do that." 

You smirked at him. "You don't let me do anything, ever, Officer." 

"You're not going in there. We need you in here," he insisted, rubbing a hand over his head.

The crying abruptly cut off across the room, and he whipped around immediately to check on the baby. You smiled a little at that- Officer Walsh as a parent was going to be weird- but your eyes followed his. Daryl had the baby, wrapped in Maggie's shirt still, drinking from a bottle of formula while everyone stared. You knew firsthand how gentle he could be, but seeing his scraped knuckles and dirty fingernails cradling that tiny little thing and her bottle was a truly heartwarming experiences.

"She have a name yet?" he asked Carl, who shrugged. The kid started listing all the women your group had lost, and your heart twisted when he said Lori. 

You couldn't do it. You turned and stepped toward the door, but Shane's arm shot out, blocking your path. You turned tired eyes to him and waited. "Officer Walsh, this is getting old. We going to fight or not?" 

"Wasn't there a fuck option last time?" he muttered in a poor attempt at humor, even as he dropped his arm. 

"There was. Last time. Things change, Walsh," you snapped, eyes moving guiltily back to Daryl. Then you shoved past Shane and out the door. 

 

 

You found Rick in the boiler room, standing over the puddle and a long, thick smear of blood where Lori had been. 

"Deputy?" you said quietly from the doorway, jaw tight as you tried not to run screaming from what had happened here. 

He looked up at the sound of your voice, but didn't say a word. Walking slowly down the steps to his level, you took a good look at him. You'd passed enough bodies on the way in to know he'd been putting that hatchet he'd picked up to good use. He was soaked in blood and guts and looking at him now there was absolutely nothing left of the Good Person Sheriff's Deputy Rick Grimes you'd first met. 

Instead of the intense-friendly listen to me gaze, there was something blank and terrifying in his eyes as they locked on yours. 

"Hey," you whispered when you reached him. "What are you doing in here, Rick?" 

He didn't speak, turning away from you instead and sliding along the floor following the smear of blood that lead away from where Lori'd died. 

Oh. That's what he was doing. You followed him, watching his back with your knife in hand. Your foot hit something and it rattled across the floor. Rick was busy with the blood trail, so you grabbed it. 

It was a bullet, probably the one Carl had used to make sure Lori didn't turn. Your fist clenched around it, and you turned to find Rick looking at you. He held out his hand, still not saying anything, and you gave it to him. 

He put it in his pocket after staring at it for what felt like an eternity and turned back to the zombie with the distended stomach and blood smeared around its mouth. You followed when he didn't try to stop you, wondering just where he was going with this. He crouched over the thing, stuffed his gun in its mouth, and screamed as he pulled the trigger. 

You winced, but didn't move. He held out his hand to you, reaching behind him as he stared at the zombie. 

"What?" you asked him, not knowing what the fuck he wanted from you right then. Motherfucker was dead- twice- it wasn't like Rick could kill him a third time.

"Knife," he said in a rusty, croaking voice. 

You hesitated. "Rick, man, why-" 

"Knife!" he yelled, turning to look at you wildly. You met his eyes and held them for a long moment before you slapped your knife into his hand. He nodded once and turned back to the walker, cutting down brutally into the thing's stomach in a disgusting parallel of what you'd done earlier that day. 

You promptly lost the ongoing battle you'd been having with your stomach and started heaving into a corner while he rooted around inside the thing's innards. The wet, squelching sounds had you seriously contemplating stabbing yourself in the ears so you didn't have to keep hearing them, but you figured if you did that, you'd be hearing it for the rest of eternity instead. 

Finally, blessedly, the noises stopped, and you lifted your head as you heard footsteps coming toward you. He put a hand on your shoulder, and it left a bloody hand print on your vest when he dropped it away again a heartbeat later. You looked at him slowly, and he was a mess. 

But he met your eyes, nodded once, and handed you back your knife. "Go back." 

"Rick-" you started. 

He was shaking his head, already backing away from you. "Go back." 

And he was gone, scooping up the axe and disappearing further into the darkness. He stepped over the walker he'd disemboweled on the way, and you closed your eyes against another wave of stomach-cramping nausea. 

 

 

Shane was waiting for you when you came out, stepping slowly into the night air. He reached out a hand, but you held up your own, still bloody one. 

"Don't," you whispered. "Please, don't. I- I can't have another breakdown today, alright? I'm so done, Shane."

He nodded, running his hand over his hair instead of touching you. "Rick ok?" 

Your laugh lacked anything that remotely could have been dubbed humor. "Hell no. He's off his fucking rocker, Walsh. Just leave him. There's nothing we can do until he decides he's done in there." 

Shane looked agonized, but he fell into step with you as you headed away from the door. 

"How's the baby?" you asked after a moment. 

He smiled, his whole face softening. "Asleep. Drank that whole bottle Daryl gave her, burped massively, and sacked right out." 

You smirked at him and bumped his shoulder with yours. "Looks good on you, Officer." 

"What does?" he asked. 

"Parenthood." 

He shook his head, looking sad. "Rick's-" 

You snorted. "Please. Don't start. Talk it out with him when he's sane again, man. But he already knows, trust me." 

Shane ran his hand over his hair again, leaving it sticking straight up all over his head. You chuckled a little and started to smooth it down, but you noticed the state of your hands again and stopped, grimacing at them. 

"Fuck. Shane, I- I've got to get all this off me, damn it. I can't-" You stopped speaking and looked around in distress for water, bleach, acid- anything you could plunge your hands into to get Lori's blood off. 

"Yeah," Shane said quietly. "Yeah, I bet. Come on, Nameless. I'll get you cleaned up. Least I can do." 

"Shut the fuck up," you said to him wearily, but he grabbed your hand in his, blood and all, and squeezed it. 

"I get to say thank you. That's all I'll say, but- thank you," he said seriously. "Now come on, stubborn criminal. See if we can find some soap." 

"Acid might be better," you muttered. 

"That's a damn fool idea if I ever heard one." 

 

 

You fell asleep while Shane was cleaning your arms up, literally passing out sitting up while he was scrubbing at the blood on your elbow. You woke up to the glow of false dawn, Daryl's poncho draped over you again, your knife cleaned and by your side, and your jacket and vest folded neatly beside it. 

Rick's bloody hand print was gone, except for the faintest red stain on the upper corner of the patch that declared you Nameless. What a shit enforcer you were turning out to be, you thought as you pulled the vest over your shoulders and rose. You wrapped the poncho around yourself as well, huddling into it and the scent of Daryl that was permanently on it. 

Like the blankets in his bed when you'd slipped through his window. Sometimes you'd gone even when he wasn't home, curling up in his bed alone and managing to sleep there because it smelled like home. He always smelled like home. He always kept you safe. 

He was the one who'd made you want to keep others safe. He was the reason you'd started backing up your friends and fellow club members when they got into shit. You'd known, practically all your life, that Daryl was at your back. Then, when he suddenly wasn't anymore, you'd foundered for a while. You'd been lost and confused, and you realized no one should ever feel like they didn't have someone to back them up. So you'd started being that person for anyone and everyone, since you didn't have that person for yourself anymore. And you'd been good at it, for awhile. 

Now you couldn't protect your people to save your life. You'd lost three in one day. A third of them. You'd killed one yourself. Then you'd probably destroyed your relationship with the person you cared most about in the world because you couldn't get yourself under control.

You headed outside, walking the fences as false dawn gave way to the real thing. What the hell were you going to do about what had happened yesterday? All of it- the prisoners to Lori and the baby to T Dog and Carol to Rick's insanity to what had happened with Daryl- Judas fucking Priest. What was even going on with the world? 

Daryl's words kept echoing in your ears. "I know this is a damn mistake. Ya fucked up and just wanna feel alive."

Was it? Was it just a mistake, on both your parts? Or was it, maybe, what you both needed all along? 

You'd meant it when you'd told him you'd never stopped loving him. He was the only man you'd ever loved, damn it. From day one, ripped jeans and Axel Rose and Def Leppard t shirts, you'd been his. That hadn't changed, not through teenage hormones and a couple of lame attempts at dating each- you'd never really gotten further than one awkward first date and couple even more awkward, emotionless make out sessions with some of the braver guys in your school, mostly older ones who went through girls like candy bars; he'd never done more than some of the same with girls who wanted to see if they could get the surly Dixon to notice them and his couple of months with Melissa goddamn Everette- to Atlanta, to after your breakup. You'd always been clear and up front with everyone you were with- it was just sex; no heart. 

Hell, Shane was the closest to getting anything more than that, what with the zombie apocalypse turning him into your friend and all. 

Did you want it to just be a mistake? Or did you want something more? 

You glanced up at the prison and there he was, like you'd summoned him with your musings. Daryl Dixon, frayed jeans ripped at the knee, crossbow, and the vest you'd given him in place on his back, headed toward the three graves marked with their small, sad wooden crosses in the corner of the yard. 

Your heart skipped a little when you saw him, like it always did, and found yourself wondering what the hell was wrong with you for trying so hard to drive away this man you'd been looking around for your whole fucking life. Your feet were carrying you toward him, something in the way he walked telling you he was in pain. He might have known all your quirks and actions and expressions, but hell if you didn't know all of his, too. You knew that set of his shoulders, the tension in the line of his jaw as he looked to the side, the slight slump to his spine. You knew the drop of his head, the death-grip he had on the strap of the crossbow. 

You knew all the little tells that your best friend was hurting, since you'd learned them when the pain was something physical he was trying to hide. 

Fuck everything and anything else between you; at the bottom of it all, you were one fucking soul in two bodies, or whatever the hell that Chinese proverb said. That was Daryl, your best friend in the whole damn world, and literally nothing would stop you from moving heaven and earth to take care of him when he was in pain.

He knelt by Carol's grave as you approached, and pulled a flower from his vest. A Cherokee rose, like the one he'd taken to give to Carol for Sophia. Like the ones drawn on a menu accompanying a story about mothers crying for their lost children, in a little shack of a restaurant just inside the Atlanta city limits that you and Daryl had found and read when you were barely more than lost children yourselves. 

Like the one tattooed on your rib cage that despite the fast and furious and almost hate-filled, desperate sex the day before, he hadn't seen. You'd gotten it on the tenth anniversary of the day he brought you to Atlanta, based off of a picture from the menu of that little shack. Maybe you'd been a lost child then, but you'd been on your way to finding yourself. And he'd been a part of that. He'd been the cause of that.

When he turned and saw you standing there, watching him, he froze. You could see the tears in his eyes, and as he tried to blink them away, you stepped toward him. You reached for his hand, turning your attention to the graves, and stood with him as the sun broke over the prison behind you and light flooded the field.


	56. Love Is Real And Not Fade Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

"We need to talk, Dixon," you told him quietly as you walked back toward the prison together. So far, neither of you had said a word, just standing in the sunlight and looking at the graves. You didn't know what he was thinking, but you were saying a quiet goodbye to the ones you'd lost. 

And a thank you to Lori for helping you get your head out of your ass and realize what you had in front of you. Now, hopefully, he'd be willing to listen believe what you wanted to say to him.

"Naw, don't think we do. I got it already," he replied, shaking his head. There wasn't any anger in his tone, just a resigned sadness that twisted up into a ball of guilt inside you. 

You stopped walking and put a hand on his arm, gently. He stopped too and glanced at you from the corner of his eye, hitching the crossbow up with his shoulder and fiddling with the strap with both hands. 

"Gonna say it was a mistake. Ya cain't do it; be together like that. It's fine, baby, I know. Told I knew before we-" he tossed his head, faint blush appearing on his cheeks, and you couldn't stop the smile that rose on your lips. 

"Fucked?" you finished for him, because honestly, there was no other word for what the two of you had done. It sure wasn't 'making love' or any nonsense like that. 

He scowled, finally looking at you properly at the blush spread. "God, you're a bitch." 

You shook your head, still grinning, and touched his cheek. "Asshole," you whispered, tracing the blush with your fingertips. 

Dear God, you loved this man. He could kill a man, could flirt and tease and hell yes, fuck like mad, but he couldn't talk about it without turning red. Never could.

He froze beneath you, eyes wide and cautious on yours. 

"What the hell ya doin', YN?" he whispered after a minute, voice so carefully controlled it broke your heart even more. You could feel the way his heart was racing where your fingers brushed the pulse in his neck. 

You shrugged, hoping like crazy you'd get this right. That it wasn't completely broken between you because you'd been a bitch. "Hell if I know, Daryl. But whatever I do, it always comes back to you. You're it for me, always have been. Maybe I am fucked up; maybe I do just want to feel alive. But is that a bad thing? If it's you who does that for me? Shit, babe, here we are. At the end of the world, dead walking, and we're together. I think that means something." 

He looked away as you let your fingers drop from his face to grip his vest. He swallowed and shifted, looking back at you. "I meant every word, girl. I love ya still, ain't stopped, but we can just be friends. If it's what you need. Like that night, after Merle- last night don't have to mean anything." 

"I think if my life so far has taught me anything, Daryl Dixon, what I need is you," you told him seriously. "I'm sorry I'm an angry bitch. I'm sorry we can never talk first and then have sex, that it always seems to go the other way around for us." 

He snorted a laugh as you stepped into him a little more, your hand laying flat on the leather of his vest. 

"But babe, just like that night in the shower, it's real. Maybe I suck at emotions when I'm not completely wrecked, but God knows I mean it when I reach for you. You're all I've ever wanted, Daryl. Only man I've ever loved. I've got a tattoo that matches yours. You've still got this thing. We're somehow, impossibly, still friends. We still got great chemistry in bed." You paused. "Well, against a wall. Bet we still have great chemistry in bed too, though." 

He laughed again, louder, and one hand came off the strap of the crossbow and curled around your neck. "Yeah, bet we do." 

You winked at him before you looked down, suddenly hesitant. You absently reached for the strap of his crossbow with the hand you didn't have against him as you glanced back up at him with a small, questioning smile. "I still love you. We still love each other." 

He tugged your hair at the base of your neck gently, tilting your head back so he could kiss you, once, twice, three times, as he slid his other arm around you to pull you tight against him. 

"Yeah. We do," he whispered against your lips, and you melted into him. 

 

 

"Hey. Wake the hell up, baby," Daryl's amused voice came moments before he yanked the pillow off of your head. 

You groaned and rolled over, trying to ignore him, and he laughed. 

"Ain't gonna blow me off that easy. Come on, we got plans for today." 

"Fuck the plans. You kept me up all night. I just wanna sleep!" you mumbled, hopefully coherently. 

Daryl snorted. "I kept you up? Think that was the other way around, baby. I weren't the one who said 'one more episode' at two am." 

You groaned again, trying to pull the blanket over your head. He laughed and pulled it back, ruthless in his quest to get you out of your nice, warm, soft, wonderful bed. 

"Fine, grumpy bitch, ya can stay in there if ya want. I'll just go and pick up Merle all by myself. I'm sure he'll understand why sleep was more important than bein' there for him the minute he got back for his first leave..." Daryl trailed off, rising from the edge of the bed. 

You stuck your head out from under the blanket and opened one bleary eye. "Merle?" 

"That's what I said," he replied with a smug grin. 

You frowned. "You didn't tell me he was coming home today. You said next week." 

"I did?" he said innocently, grin turning into a smirk. "Must have been a mistake." 

You sat up, scrubbed a hand over your face, and narrowed your eyes at him. "If you're pulling my leg, Daryl Dixon, I swear to God I will kill you with my bare hands." 

He leaned over and kissed you, hard. "Get up, get a shower. Got coffee on already. Half and hour and we leave. Happy birthday, baby." 

You wrapped an arm around him and flopped backward, dragging him back with you while you laughed. He muttered a curse as he fell into the bed with you. He caught himself on his arms and looked down into your face. You laid a hand on his cheek and beamed at him. 

"You're the best, you know that? I love you, Daryl." 

He kissed your palm. "I love ya more. Get up, ya lazy woman. Cain't be late or Merle's gonna kick my ass."

"It's such a nice ass, too," you answered, hands sliding down. "What if I skip the shower, get the coffee to go, and we stay here for twenty minutes instead?" 

 

 

Shane let out an ear-splitting wolf whistle from the fence. 

You didn't remove yourself from wrapped around Daryl, where you'd ended up in his arms with your legs wrapped around him- Jesus that man was strong- instead lifting your hand from his neck to flip the officer off while he laughed. 

"Yo, Nameless, Dixon- group meeting. Get your tongues out of each other's throats and get back inside, damn it!" 

Fucking Walsh. Mood spoiler. 

 

 

Back inside, Daryl draped an arm over your shoulders while you sat on the stairs and everyone ate breakfast of some sort in silence. You leaned into him, just a touch, and flashed a smile up at him. Shit, you'd fucking missed this. 

Maggie, Beth, and Glenn kept shooting amused glances your way, and finally you sighed. 

"You people have something on your minds?" you asked, voice the picture of false politeness. 

Shane choked on a mouthful of whatever was in his bowl when Maggie looked at you and bluntly declared, "We wanna know if you and Daryl have finally gotten around to fuckin' again." 

"Jesus, Maggie! There are kids in here!" you exclaimed, sitting straight up, eyes wide with shock. You were the one who said shit like that, not her. She glanced at Carl and Beth, both of whom were bright red and laughing, her expression contrite. 

"It's ok," Carl said after a minute of pulling himself together. His voice was serious, but his eyes danced with laughter. "Dad and Uncle Shane both had the talk with me after Mom-" He cut off and silence came crashing down. You held his eyes steadily as he took a deep breath, and then he resumed. "- after I found out Mom was pregnant." 

You gave him a nod and soft smile. "You're one tough kid, Carl. But Maggie should still watch her fucking mouth around the kids!" You turned a teasing grin on Maggie, who glanced between you and Carl, who'd already started smiling again. 

"Or in front of her extremely religious father," Hershel put in with his deep South gentleman's drawl even more pronounced than usual, and everyone cracked up as the old man tipped you a wink. 

After a bit, when the laughter faded, Maggie sighed and waved her hand. "Ok, ok. I'm sorry for offending the children's- and Daddy's- sensibilities." 

She paused and turned to you expectantly. "Well, are you?" 

Everyone started laughing again as you groaned. Daryl rubbed his fingers soothingly over your arm when you slapped a hand to your face. 

"Yeah," he said with a shrug and a wink Glenn's way. 

"Yes! Pay up, folks!" Maggie declared, which earned her an interested look from you. 

"Um, what?" you asked, raising your eyebrow at her. 

She shot you a grin. "We may have placed some bets on how long it would take you two. I won." 

"I see. And when did all this betting take place?" you asked, the first of several follow up questions. She laughed again.   
"Well, the first round was on if you and Shane were going to hook up again. I lost that one. Lori won by default when Shane hooked up with Andrea. Over the winter we started to notice you two gettin' pretty friendly again. Then we found this place and I knew it'd only be a matter of time before the two of you were climbing the walls, each other, or both. So we placed our bets and I've been waitin' ever since."

You wanted to be mad, but you were more amused than anything. "Why wasn't I invited to bet on this? It's my sex, damn it!" 

"You'd have thrown it just to win," Shane said cheerfully. "Maggie, we'll settle up later, ok? Look, people, we got things to do today." 

Your eyes were narrowed as you looked around the room, wondering just what they'd bet with. Shane was already talking about tasks for the day, though, so you set it aside to corner Maggie and ask about later. Another, better supply run needed to be made, zombie clean up needed to happen again, and there was more. But Rick chose that moment to come striding in the room. 

"Well, Deputy, you're certainly cleaner than the last time I saw you," you observed when conversation stopped at his appearance. 

He glanced at you but didn't really look like he saw you. You and Shane exchanged worried looks behind his back as he walked over to Carl. 

"Hey man, you ok?" Shane asked finally.

"I cleared out the boiler block," he said, which he apparently considered a response to that question. 

"How many were there?" Daryl asked. You gave him a look and he shrugged. 

"I don't know. A dozen, two dozen. I have to get back. Just wanted to check on Carl." He patted Carl on the back without actually addressing any words to the kid, who looked pissed off and hurt. 

You had a lot of questions for your club president, but it didn't look like he'd be answering them any time soon. You could recognize someone who wasn't all there. He looked at the two of you, together on the stairs. 

"Everyone have a gun and a knife?" 

"Yeah," Daryl said. "Runnin' low on ammo, though." 

"Maggie and Glenn are makin' a run this afternoon, man," Shane added. "Found a phone book with some places to hit, look for bullets and formula." 

"Sounds like a bad eighties hair metal band," you muttered, unable to help yourself. "Bullets and Formula." 

Daryl snorted in appreciation and Rick looked right through you. 

"Cleared out the generator room," Daryl added, fingers tracing shapes on your back as he spoke. "Axel's there tryin' to fix it, in case of emergency. We're gonna sweep the lower levels as well." 

"Good. Good," Rick said, and you had the feeling he hadn't heard a word any of you had said. That feeling increased when he spun on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving everyone staring in his wake. 

"What the actual fuck?" you said into the silence. 

 

 

"Look, one of us needs to go down there and check on the man," Shane said in a low voice, bouncing the baby in his arms as he spoke. You were smirking at him with your arms crossed, trying to reconcile the cocky asshole you'd met outside King County with this almost respectable parent in front of you. He caught your look and flipped you off. 

"There's the Officer Walsh I know and tolerate," you teased, and Daryl shook his head and rolled his eyes from between the you of you. 

"He ain't gonna listen to me," Shane said seriously, and you could agree with that. He really wouldn't. Hell, Rick hadn't even looked at Shane while he was there. "He almost took out Glenn when he went after him. You got the most out of him, Nameless. You should go." 

"He didn't give me much to work with either, you know," you complained, but you were seriously worried about the deputy. You were going, you just didn't want them to expect some kind of miracle. "I mean, I'll go, but don't get your hopes up, ok?" 

Daryl shrugged. "Better'n nothin', baby. Aight, she's on Rick; Maggie and Glenn are gettin' formula. I'll take Carl and Oscar and do the sweep. Walsh, ya stayin' up here, keep an eye on Lil Ass-kicker and on the fence?" 

Shane nodded. 

You sighed. "Well, at least we have a game plan. Even if it sucks."


	57. London Calling to the Zombies of Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> mentions of past abuse

"Hey, little brother!" Merle's voice was cheerful through the cell phone speaker, coming clearly despite the background din, and you closed your eyes and tried to picture him. 

"Merle," you said, voice thick after the crying jag you'd been on. 

His tone changed instantly. "Baby girl. What's wrong? Daryl ok?" 

You sniffed, rubbing absently at your eyes. "Yeah, he's- he's fine. I borrowed his phone." 

"I figured. What's goin' on, girlie?" The background noise, a cacophonous mix of clanking, yelling voices, and wailing guitar that you couldn't quite catch the tune of got briefly louder, then abruptly cut off. "Ya don't sound ok, so don't try'n tell me ya are." 

You sighed and laid back on Daryl's bed, scooting around until you had the blankets pulled up over your head like a cocoon. "I don't know, Merle. Just missed you," you told him. 

It was true enough, but you were avoiding telling him what was really going on. You didn't want to lay anything on him, not while he was trying to make it in Atlanta. He already did so much for the both of you. He'd brought Daryl a bike. Just bought one, hauled it down, and left it with him- for emergencies, he'd said. 

He kept the two of you supplied with weed, too, and had slipped cash in both of your backpacks on every visit. And you knew it wasn't like he had a lot of that to spare, damn it. He wasn't a full member of the club yet, so he was doing a lot of grunt work and a lot of low-paying shit while he proved himself. 

He didn't need your drama piled on top of that. 

"Well, hell, baby girl. I miss you too. But c'mon now, talk to me. Got me worried." He sounded it too, damn it all. 

You closed your eyes again, snuggling into the scent of Daryl and the sound of Merle's voice. "He's gotten worse, Merle. It's every damn night now. I'm so tired, is all." 

There was silence on the other end. You started drifting, heading toward sleep here where you felt the most safe. 

"He ain't tried to touch ya or anything, has he, girlie?" Merle asked finally. His voice was rough and dangerous, and you smiled a little. Merle might have scared the shit out of other people, but to you he was a massive teddy bear. Nobody else seemed to get that. 

"No, he hasn't. I'm overreacting, I'm sure. Sorry. Just exhausted, and I miss you," you mumbled, still feeling caught somewhere between asleep and awake. 

Merle's voice was amused this time. "You fallin' alseep on me? Where are ya?" 

"Curled up in Daryl's bed," you admitted easily, unashamed. It wasn't like he didn't know you slept there more than in your own bed. "Will's not here; I checked. And I locked the door from this side." 

Merle snorted. "Good girl. Where's my brother right now?" 

"I don't know. School? The woods? Shit. Not here. Think he'll mind?" you mumbled. 

Merle's voice was soft as he laughed. "Naw, baby girl. Think my brother'll be happy to know ya safe there. Go on, get some rest. Have him call me when he gets home, aight?" 

"Aight," you said around a yawn. 

"Sleep good, girlie. Bye now." 

"Bye, Merle. Love ya," you mumbled. 

You barely heard his response as you fell out completely. "I love ya, too, baby girl."

 

 

Rick was in the boiler room, pacing back and forth in front of a phone. Said phone was very clearly disconnected, and so was Rick. 

"Hey, Deputy," you said as you came down the steps. He glanced up at you and shoved his gun back into the holster at his side. You took that as a good sign. 

You leaned your elbows onto the back of a chair as Rick watched the air somewhere near you. You looked him over for a minute, not speaking yet, and he fidgeted and didn't say anything either. Finally you sighed. 

"Ok, Rick. I'm going to talk for a bit, and I'd like you to listen. Conversation- you know, the part where you respond to what I say, we look each other in the eye, et cetera- isn't required, but it'd be nice. You cool with that?" You paused, giving him a chance to respond and not really expecting him to. His eyes shifted from the table near your left hip to the air somewhere near your right ear. 

You took that as an affirmative. "I've never lost someone I loved like you loved Lori. Not really, since I refuse to believe Merle is dead. Matter of fact, there aren't many people I actually care about in the world. Used to only be two of them. Then some asshole put me in lockup in King County and this other asshole broke in." You shrugged and grinned. "Now both those assholes and a few others are on the short list of people I give a shit about." 

You paused again, to see if Rick had anything to say in response. He tapped his fingers absently on the table and shifted his feet a little, staring at the phone. This phone thing was weird, but whatever. You'd get to that eventually, you hoped. If he started talking. 

"Anyway. I've never lost anyone like that, so I can't even begin to imagine what's in your head right now, Deputy. I won't even try. I'm also not going to try to get you to come out of here, though that would be why Shane and the others sent me down here. They think I can reach you somehow, and well- shit needed to be done, so here I am."

Another pause, and his eyes focused on yours for about two seconds. You smiled at him. "Hey. There you are. Listen, you know it was me, right? Sorry to be so blunt, but I figure you need to know. So you can decide if you're going to fight me or anything. Now's a good time, if you want." 

His eyes came back to yours, locked and held as something moved through them. Then he looked away again. "I know." 

"Shit," you whispered, jerking upright at the sound of his voice. You hadn't been expecting him to speak, and weren't really sure what to do now that he had. "Ugh, sorry. I wasn't- I wasn't expecting a response." 

You could have sworn you saw his lips move upward, like a smile. 

"I know," he said again, his eyes on the surface of the table. 

You were thrown completely off your stride with him actually responding, so you came around and sat down heavily in the chair. You rubbed a hand over your face again as you looked at him. He said nothing, so you decided to continue. You figured there were still things that needed saying between you two, and then there was the whole matter of what the fuck he was doing down here. 

"Shit, Deputy. I don't know if you want to hear this or not, but- she knew. She knew she was going to die either way, and she wanted that baby girl in there to live. Maggie- Maggie couldn't do it. But I could," you said, a little bitterly, as you looked down at your hands. 

"Yeah. You could," Rick agreed. Your eyes shot up to him and he had shifted a little closer to you, but he still wasn't looking at you. There wasn't any judgement or anger in his voice or his face, just neutrality with a hint of sadness, and you felt something tight easing in your chest. 

"She made me promise not to let you be the one to put her down. I told her not to worry. That I had your back. She said she knew that. That she'd known if from the beginning, from when she saw us standing together in the quarry." You shook your head, a faint smile on your lips. "Shit, Deputy. I thought she didn't like me much." 

He definitely smiled that time, you were sure of it- just the briefest flash of his lips upward as he picked up a loose screw from the table and spun it between his fingers. "She didn't." 

You laughed. "God. I'm not surprised. Hell, if I were her and I saw you roll up with someone like me, I'd dislike me too." 

"She didn't dislike you for long. You grew on her." 

"I have a tendency to do that," you replied easily. "She didn't want you and Shane to kill each other over this. So don't." 

You raised your eyebrows at him as you issued the order and his expression didn't change. After a minute of silence, you leaned forward and put a hand over Rick's on the table. 

"Deputy. She was sorry. And she loved you. Right before the walkers came out of nowhere, we were talking. I was telling her about the time I wrecked out, ended up in the hospital for weeks because I took a piece of bike through the guts. I had something of an epiphany regarding Daryl, told her I thought I was fucking things up. She laughed and told me at least I was in good company, because she was kind of an expert at fucking things up." 

He looked at you again and then away. "She wasn't the only one." 

"No, she wasn't," you agreed, patting his hand. "Everyone makes mistakes. Rick, you take all the time you need in here, ok? We owe you anything you need. You got us here, to somewhere safe."

"It isn't safe enough!" He hissed, looking at you wildly. 

You raised an eyebrow. "You think there's somewhere safer than this? Dude, it's a prison. Got some work to do yet, but when we're done, this thing is going to be awesome." 

"I- I got a call," he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. 

You glanced at the phone on the table and then back at him. "A call." 

"Yes. On this phone. A woman, young. Part of a group. She said they had a safe place." 

You picked up the phone, morbid curiosity getting the better of you. And, ok, the dead were walking around. Apparently anything could happen, and you weren't willing to totally rule out calls on a phone that wasn't plugged into anything. There wasn't a dial tone, which was almost disappointing. 

"They said they were just dialing numbers and I picked up. She said they'd be calling back. If it sounds right, I want to talk them into taking us in," Rick was giving you the intense-friendly look you were immune to, and you liked it a lot better than when he wouldn't look you in the eyes. However- 

"Deputy...." you started, treading carefully. Hallucinations and grief counseling were so outside of your skills. 

"Look, if it's safe, we'll get there. Don't tell the rest of the group. Not yet," Rick said, clearly ready for you to leave. 

You rose, chewing on your lip as you looked at him. He was staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring, and something had you staring at it as well. "I can wait with you, if you want," you offered. 

Rick didn't look away from the phone, but he reached out and touched your shoulder, like he had in the boiler room. "No. Go watch over them. I'm ok." 

You shoved a hand through your hair and shrugged. "Ok. You know where we are if you need us." 

 

 

"I don't know, Walsh. He's off his fucking rocker, but what the hell do we do about it?" you asked wearily. You stood up in the inner guard tower, scanning the woods all around the prison. 

Zombies wandered through the trees, some of them coming to bump aimlessly against the fences. You made a mental note to send the former prisoners down there again with some crowbars, take out as many of them as you could so they wouldn't attract more. 

Shane leaned against the railing beside you, his monster shotgun in this hands. "What the fuck is going on in his head, Nameless? He really thinks he's getting phone calls?" 

"Yep," you said. "But look, man, don't go all overthrow the dictator on me here. The Rickocracy works. We need that hallucinating bastard in charge." 

Shane snorted. "Yeah, we do. Damn it." 

"Yeah," you agreed. "Ok, so, where are we on today's to do list?" 

"Maggie and Glenn went out on a run. Daryl, Carl, and Oscar are down in lower levels. Rick's apparent talking to people on the phone, and you and I are trying to figure out what the hell to do next." 

"Shit. Why are we in charge again?" you asked, looking at him and kicking at the railing with the toe of one boot. You were just the muscle, damn it. You kicked the asses that needed kicking, you didn't decide which asses those were. 

"Some shit you spouted about club presidents and group hierarchy, Nameless," he said with a grin and a shrugged. 

You groaned, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. "Aw, fuck me." 

"Naw, Dixon's doing that now." 

"Oh shut up, Walsh," you laughed as you straightened up. He grinned back at you, but there was a faint trace of sadness in his eyes you didn't understand.


	58. Girls, Girls, Girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

"Hey, Walsh? Do you see what I see down there?" you asked, staring to one side of the prison with a frown at the tree line. 

"Hmmm?" He turned from his own scan of the surroundings, raising an eyebrow. You'd been just kind of chilling together in silence, watching the woods and the walkers while you waited for news from inside or Maggie and Glenn's return. So far everything had been quiet, but there was something odd in the movement down there now.

"There." You pointed toward the trees where a figure was emerging, walking stiffly and carrying what looked like a shopping basket. "Judas Priest, Shane, I think that person's alive. I'm going down there," you decided, shoving off the railing. 

"Wait, we don't- Damn it, Nameless!" Shane muttered, but you were already heading down the stairs at a jog. 

At the bottom, you ran headlong into Rick. 

"What the-" you bit out as you slammed into him. He grabbed you and steadied you on your feet. You stared at him for a second in surprise, but then you grinned. "Hey, Deputy. Get your phone call?" 

He looked away, jaw tightening. "It was- I was-" 

You took pity on the guilt-filled look in his eyes and touched his cheek. "I know. You with us again, now?" 

He nodded. "Yeah. There's something-" 

"By the fence on the left? Yeah, that's where I'm headed," you agreed, snapping back to business. "Come on." 

 

 

You headed toward the fence at Rick's back, gun in your hand. Living people hadn't been the best of news for you and yours lately. When you got there and got a good look at the woman standing there, you let out a low whistle. 

"Well shit, she's badass," you muttered. 

"What?" Rick asked, looking at you instead of at the blood-covered woman with a sword standing casually among the dead.

"She has a sword, Rick. A motherfucking sword. And she figured out your gut-bath method of disguise, too." 

She moved backward as the walkers started to turn on her, limping and dropping the shopping basket full of- 

"Rick, that's fucking formula. Get the gate, now," you snapped, already moving as spoke. Debate over the best course of action was no longer optional as the walkers descended on her. She drew the sword and started loping off head and sticking that shiny bitch through eyeballs, but you knew there were too many. Plus, with that limp, she had to have been injured. Some of that blood was hers. 

Maggie and Glenn had gone out on a run for bullets and formula, and some woman shows up shot with a basket full of the stuff? Fuck it. Something was wrong.   
You had your gun out and started picking off the walkers as she passed out. More were coming out of the trees, though, as you and Rick headed out. Rick went for the formula while you checked the woman over. 

"No bites, Deputy. Gunshot to the leg, though," you told him as you tossed her over your shoulder in a fireman's carry. 

"Come on, we gotta get back inside. Figure it out in there," Rick answered. 

 

 

"Carl, get a blanket. Beth, get water and a towel. She's not coming in the cell blocks," Rick said firmly. Carl, Beth, the baby, and Hershel had been waiting for you, Shane looking down with an irritated expression from the guard tower as you hauled the woman and the formula up from the gate.

Hershel made his way over as you laid the woman down with a grunt. You took the water from Beth and dumped some liberally on the woman's face. Her eyes flickered open and she started to rise, but you put a hand on her shoulder and kept her in place. 

"Hey, easy there tiger," you said. "You literally just passed out. Hold up a minute." 

"Who are you?" Rick asked over your shoulder. 

You rolled your eyes and shot an annoyed look at him. "You hold your horses too, Deputy. Give the poor woman a minute. Passing out and waking up again that fast is disorienting, damn it." 

The woman looked between you and him and went for her sword without giving away the movement before it began. You sighed and shoved it out of the way with your foot, sending it skittering across the floor toward the cell doors. 

"We're not going to hurt you," you told her. Then after a pause you added truthfully, "Unless you do something stupid first."

She narrowed her eyes at you and started to speak, licking her lips when she wasn't able to get anything out the first time. You grabbed for the bottle of water, but noise in the cell block drew your attention. 

"YN, Rick," Daryl called, voice sounding odd as he appeared in the doorway. 

You looked up as he came out of the cells, and jerked your head toward the woman. "Hey. We found someone." 

"So did I," he answered, eyes lingering on the woman on the ground. She was taking in everything that was being said with wary, intelligent eyes, you noticed as you glanced back down at her and then over to Rick. 

"What?" Rick snapped, his eyes hard as he rose, and Daryl flashed him a grin. 

"Come on in here. Y'all gonna want to see this." 

 

 

 

You took everything with you, at Rick's insistence, and locked the woman in the common area alone. She was sitting up slowly, staring at you like she'd seen you somewhere but couldn't figure it out. 

"Deputy, something isn't right here," you said seriously, eyeing her through the gate as he locked it.

"We'll talk to her more in a minute," Rick told you grimly. 

You were holding her sword, and you pulled it partway from the sheath to take a closer look at it as you headed toward where Daryl was waiting. The blade was sharp, you could tell by looking at it, and while there was blood on it from you hastily snatching it up outside and shoving it into the sheath without cleaning the walker blood off, there was't any residue or build up on the blade or around the handle. She obviously took care of the thing, and you felt a little guilty for not cleaning it before you sheathed it. No one liked it when other people didn't treat their tools well. 

"C'mon, you two," Daryl called impatiently, leaning in the doorway of a cell. 

"Alright, alright. Two people in one day? Shit, this place Grand Central Station and we didn't know it?" you muttered. You eyed him warily as you approached, trying to figure out what was going on in that head of his. He looked too damn smug to have found some random person, but who the fuck could it-

You froze in the doorway of the cell. Rick, just behind you, ran smack into you. 

"What the fuck," you whispered. "Carol?" 

Holy balls. Somehow, some way, it was her- alive, and from the looks of her, pretty miraculously unharmed. She smiled and stood up, hugging you both. When she let go of you and wrapped her arms around Rick, you turned to Daryl. He stood there with his arms crossed and that smug smile on his lips, clearly gloating. You looked at him, feeling like you'd been tossed from an airplane into sudden free fall. His smile softened from smug to gentle as he held out a hand to you. You let him pull you in, leaning into his shoulder with a sigh. 

"Jesus. Good work, Dixon," you whispered. 

"How?" Hershel asked, coming up with Beth and Carl. Shane was still outside, and you wondered for a minute if you should go get him in on the news. 

"Solitary," Carol answered. 

"Fought her way into a cell. Must have passed out, dehydrated," Daryl said, his arm wrapping around you as you turned around to face the rest of them. He set his chin on your shoulder and you leaned into him gratefully. 

Then Carol's eyes landed on the baby, and her face changed. You looked away from it all as Daryl tightened his arm around you, looking instead at the mystery badass. She had climbed to her feet and was watching your group through the bars of the gate. 

You reached over to Daryl's side and unhooked his prison keys from his belt. He didn't resist when you pulled away from him, letting you move toward the door without complaint. 

"Rick? Nameless?" Shane's voice came as you reached the gate and were staring at the woman. Her eyes never left yours and she didn't even twitch when Shane yelled.   
He came slowly down the stairs as you unlocked the gate and slid through. 

"Walsh. You should go check out what Daryl found," you told Shane, still eyeing your mystery guest. Shane gave her fairly wide berth as he came to your side and took the keys from you. 

"You ok out here?" he said quietly, setting a hand on your shoulder. 

 

"I'm good," you told him. "Just going to have a chat with our new friend here." 

He nodded and squeezed your shoulder before slipping through the door and locking it behind himself. "Call if you need- holy shit." 

You grinned as you heard his rapid steps behind you, and the woman's eyes flickered from yours to the laughter ringing out from the cell block. 

"Ok, my badass new friend," you said, crossing your arms as you raised an eyebrow at her. Her lips twitched in the ghost of a smile, and your opinion of her continued to rise based on that alone. "Just us girls here now. So. Who the fuck are you?"


	59. Built For Speed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> probable medical inaccuracies  
> mentions of alcohol and drug use

"Would you fucking hold still, you big baby?" you snapped as Merle jerked the arm you held yet again. 

"That hurts!" he half-yelled, glaring at you. His pupils were pinpricks and with the scowl he wore he looked almost demonic. The blood liberally decorating his arm and one side of his face didn't help that association any, either. 

You sighed and prayed for patience. "If you weren't so goddamn high that you started a fight with six redneck assholes trying to hustle them in pool- on our night off, I might add, when we were just supposed to be having some drinks and hanging out- then I wouldn't have to be doing this, and it wouldn't hurt. Put a fucking lid on it and stay still so I can get this damn thing clean, ok? Fucking hell." 

"Hey now, girlie, how should I have known that asshole'd pull a gun? We was all just havin' fun till he did that." Merle's tone went from angry to lazy in that lightning-fast change he often made when he was up in the clouds somewhere. 

"Stupid high bastard," you muttered as you dumped antiseptic over the hole in his arm. "We were not 'having fun'. I was kicking four asses while you laughed like a loon and played footsie with the other two. I've probably got cracked ribs from this shit, you asshole, and you have a fucking bullet hole in your goddamn arm!" 

He hissed as the antiseptic did its work. You rinsed it with water, jerking on Merle's arm to get him back over the sink in your apartment when he tried to lean away. You slapped a clean towel back over it as blood and water splashed down. 

"Hold this on the damn thing," you instructed through gritted teeth while he laughed. He did as you asked, and you stalked to your bathroom to retrieve one of the suture kits you'd bribed your EMT buddy to give you. 

You got started sewing him up while still cussing him out. "Plus, Billy's going to be pissed at us both now. I like Billy's, Merle. It's the only bar I can go into besides the Crow and can expect to not get harassed until I have to fight someone. If Billy won't let me drink in there anymore, I'm going to shoot you myself. Got it?" 

He chuckled, reaching over and patting your cheek clumsily. "Ya cute when you're steamed, baby girl." 

You breathed deeply through your nose as you stabbed another suture into place. "Shut the fuck up, asshole." 

"I love ya too, sweetheart." 

"For shit's sake," you muttered. 

 

 

"We can tend the wound for you," you told the woman. "Give you some food and water, your weapons back, and send you on your merry way. But you're going to have to tell me how you found us, and why you were carrying formula. That's not exactly an item on everyone's shopping lists these days." 

She stared for another minute, and you were beginning to think you might need to be a bit more aggressive in your questions. You really didn't want to be, because hell. You'd just met this chick, but she was running around the zombie apocalypse with a sword and a leather vest. 

You had a feeling you'd end up liking her a lot if you got to know her. 

"The supplies were dropped by a young Asian guy with a pretty girl," she finally said. 

Your blood ran cold. Son of a bitch. You picked up the towel Beth had brought and handed it to her. "Sit down, put some pressure on that. We have a doctor- of sorts- but I've also had some experience stitching up gunshots. You can wait for Hershel, or I can take a look." 

She blinked for a minute, but took the towel from you and slid onto one of the tables, pressing the towel to her hip. You grabbed the bottle of water, still half-full, and handed it to her as well. 

"What happened? Were they attacked?" you asked, voice tight. 

"They were taken," she said slowly. She was still looking at you oddly, and you frowned. 

"Taken? By who?" 

"The same son of a bitch who shot me," she snapped. 

"Hey," Rick's voice came from the doorway. The door banged open and Rick, Shane, and Daryl strode in. Rick stopped beside you and you fixed him with a hard stare, then shifted your glare to Daryl. You'd been making plenty of progress here, damn it, and an interruption- of three angry looking men no less- would probably not do you any favors. 

He shrugged, clearly conveying that he'd had no control over Rick barging into your questioning like this. 

"Those are our people. So you need to tell me-" his hand shot out for the woman's injured leg, and you reacted without thinking. 

You shoved his hand away, putting yourself between him and her with your back to her. "What the hell, Rick?" you yelled. 

"YN. We need answers," Rick's voice was low and angry. 

"Yes," you agreed, crossing your arms. "And I'm your answers girl. If torture was fucking necessary, don't you think I'd do it? Remember Randall? She's injured and as far as I can tell, alone. She brought the fucking formula and has already told me she's seen Maggie and Glenn!" 

"And now you can find them yourself," the woman snapped out from behind you. 

"Oh, for-" you turned and glared at her. "No. Shut the fuck up or be helpful, ok? You came here for a reason." 

She looked away from you and you shot Rick a glare before turning back to her. She sighed and met your eyes again. 

"There's a town. Woodbury. About seventy-five survivors. I think he might have taken them there." 

You pointed at Rick, not looking away from the woman's eyes. "See that? Jesus. You're a fucking cop, Deputy." 

"Not anymore," Rick said grimly. "A whole town?" 

"It's run by this guy who calls himself the Governor- pretty boy, charming, Jim Jones type," she said. 

"He got muscle?" Daryl asked, and you knew what he was thinking. 

"Paramilitary wannabes. They have armed sentries on each wall. And-" she cut off, giving you that look she had earlier. 

"And what?" you asked impatiently. You were already making a mental plan for what you'd need to get in, get Maggie and Glenn, and get the fuck back out. 

"And they have someone with a vest an awful lot like yours," she said quietly. 

 

 

"Hey, Billy! We need shots, my man!" Merle's voice boomed out as he led you through the door with his arm draped over your shoulders. You couldn't stop smiling, and when Daryl stepped to your side, his fingers lingered on your arm. 

"Oh shit, trouble just came in," Billy grumbled, mock-irritated. "What are you three up to that needs shots at four in the afternoon, Merle?" 

Merle tossed his arms wide. "It's a celebration, man! A round on me, for the room!"

"Here, here!" the old guy at the far end of the bar- a fixture you were pretty sure the whole place would come apart without- raised his glass as he spoke. He was the only person in the place, and you laughed. Merle pointed at him and yelled 'my man' while Billy grinned and lined shot glasses up on the bar. 

"So, what's the news, guys?" he asked, grabbing the tequila from the top shelf behind the bar. You flashed Merle a grin as Daryl pulled out a chair for you at the bar. 

"Don't I look different, Billy?" you asked as you perched on the edge of the stool. Daryl sat beside you and Merle leaned on his elbow on your other side, not sitting down yet. 

Billy poured three shots and shoved them all toward you, then gave you a once over. His eyebrows went up and he leaned over the bar to thump you on the shoulder. "Hey, YN! Look at you, Nameless!" 

You beamed. "Not a full member yet, but thanks. I'm officially a prospect." 

"Ya'll be a full member soon enough, girl. Enjoy where ya are now, baby, ya earned it," Daryl muttered, brushing his hand over yours. You grabbed his fingers and held on, your smile softening as he squeezed back. 

"Thanks, Dixon," you murmured. 

"Aight, you two, either lose the mushy shit or just fuckin' make out already," Merle declared, scooping up the shots and thrusting two of them at you and Daryl. You could feel the blush rising on your cheeks and very carefully didn't look at Daryl as Merle scooped up his own and held it out. 

"A toast! To our baby girl. Gonna bust ass and take names as our newest Nameless!" 

You couldn't stop smiling as Daryl muttered a 'hell yeah, baby' and winked at you when you glanced at him. The three of you tossed the tequila back and slammed the glasses onto the bar. 

"Another round!" you yelled to Billy. "I'm Nameless, bitches!" 

 

 

"What?" you asked, voice sounding like it came from far away. "He- he has a Nameless? Who?" 

She shook her head. "Don't know his name." 

"Do you know a way in?" Rick asked her. 

A hand touched your back and you tore your eyes away from the woman to look at Daryl. He slid his hand up to the back of your neck and you gave him a helpless, lost look. There was a Nameless there. A Nameless. 

You had to go. 

"Place is secure from walkers, but we could slip our way through," the woman answered. 

"Hey," you said abruptly. "I can't just keep calling you 'the woman' in my head. Got a name?" 

She glanced at you, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Who doesn't have a name?" 

Shane cracked up. "She's Nameless. That's kind of her thing." 

You rolled your eyes at him, hard. "I have a name, asshole. You're the only one who just calls me Nameless all the time." 

"Michonne," she answered. "I'm Michonne." 

"Well, Michonne- nice to meet you, want me to fix your leg, and how soon can we go get our people?"


	60. Flirtin' With Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> drug abuse and brief mention of past overdose  
> mentions of drug running

Hershel was the one who ended up taking care of her, Carl standing guard, while you and the others held a quick meeting. Oscar wanted to know how you could trust her. Beth wanted to know why you were debating. You and Daryl had already declared flatly that you'd go get them, and Shane had agreed. Carol was holding the baby and not saying much of anything. 

In the end, it was decided that you, Daryl, Oscar, and Rick would go. Shane argued that he should be going with you as well, and Axel volunteered to do the same thing. You'd come down in agreement with Rick on needing to leave a few fighters behind to handle things at home. There was no telling if this Governor knew where the prison was or not yet, and it needed to be defended. 

Shane's eyes were hard, but they lingered on Carl and the baby and he eventually agreed. Now it was time to gear up and go. 

 

 

"I got the flash bangs and the tear gas," Daryl commented as he dumped bags in the trunk. "Never know what you're gonna need." 

You smiled at him, but your eyes were tight. "Yeah," you agreed, dropping in the rifle and Shane's monster shotgun. "Never know. Daryl, he's got a Nameless working for him. A Nameless who shot Michonne, took Maggie and Glenn hostage. I know we're not exactly good people, but what the hell do I do when I meet this guy? I probably know him." 

"Hey, baby. Don't worry about that, ok? We'll handle it when the time comes. Ain't nobody gonna ask ya to kill one of your own or nothin', aight?" he reassured you, sweeping his fingers along your cheek. 

You nodded, leaning into him when he tipped you forward and pressed his lips to your forehead, but you were still worried. 

 

 

Of all the bad ideas you'd been a part of in your life, you were fairly certain this one ranked at least in the top five. It was up there with the night you'd mixed tequila and Jack and almost given a guy a blow job in the bathroom at Billy's; the time you'd waded into a seven-on-one fight in an alley and gotten your ass handed to you because Merle was high and was giggling the whole time; the night you'd danced at Delirium and after your set had popped some of Merle's pills you'd confiscated from him and ended up in a car with one of the guys who'd been inside while you were onstage; and your currently highest ranking bad idea- that time the day after Daryl dumped you when, hungover, you'd gone over to his place to talk, gotten in a screaming match instead, and left on your bike, in the rain, while crying. You had a scar from that one, a long strip of shiny flesh on your forearm from the road burn you'd gotten and proceeded to pick the scab off one too many times. You were never, under any circumstances, going to tell Merle about where it came from, either. 

But this bad idea was giving even that dumbass move on your part a run for its money. You leaned against the back wall, arms crossed and shades still over your eyes, trying to look menacing. 

You were, after all, the muscle, though nothing about your apparent physique would intimidate anyone who didn't know you. The Vatos asshole who leaned on the wall across from you, however, did know you. 

That being part of the problem. Everyone here knew everyone else, and no one liked any of them. The other part of the problem was Merle was high, still bruised from his encounter with these bastards a week before, and still fairly fresh from the hospital after his OD. 

You'd done your level best to prevent the high part, dragging him to your apartment for the night the evening before, checking him for drugs, and even searching his bike after he fell asleep. The bastard was a slippery motherfucker when it came to his drugs. 

"Ya see, homie, we just ain't gonna let ya move into our territory now. Ain't gonna let ya beat up on anyone, like ya people did on little ol' me here when I made ya a scheduled delivery. This here meetin's all about what we can do about this situation before it- what's the word?" Merle leaned back and looked at you, grinning as he snapped his fingers in mock thought. 

Your expression never changed, but inwardly you were flipping him off. 

"That's it. Before this situation de-volves any damn bit further," he finished, looking over at the Vatos seated at the table across from him. The Vatos raised his eyebrows, his look clearly stating he couldn't believe this asshole was who he'd been sent to negotiate with. 

You could sympathize. You couldn't believe this asshole was the one you'd been told to "just keep in check, YN, it's not like these negotiations are real anyway. It's mostly just to keep him happy, after they jumped him like that last week. Just don't let him start a war today, that's all." 

Like it was that fucking easy with Merle. 

 

 

You drove. Axel and Michonne shot confused looks between you, Rick, and Daryl. Daryl and the deputy didn't say anything, just exchanged amused glances in the review mirror. Daryl got in the backseat with the other two without any argument, and you had some questions regarding how in the hell everyone was going to be transported back together, since the car was full already. 

You supposed there was always the trunk, of course. Whatever, that was a management problem. 

Michonne told you where to pull over, and you did. Going at the place on foot was a decision you one hundred percent approved. They had patrols, after all. And night was coming. 

Daryl and Rick started strapping on bags, and Daryl handed you the rifle. Michonne drew that wicked sword and lopped off the head of the one zombie that approached. Oscar took his gear as well and Rick slammed the trunk closed. 

You were off. 

 

 

"Merle, goddamn it, I was given very specific instructions not to let you start a war!" you snapped as you shoved Merle ahead of you into another room, slamming the door closed as shots rang down the corridor. 

Merle grinned, clapping you on the shoulder. He had his gun in his other hand and waved it casually. "Well, baby girl, it's a good thing I ain't the one as started all this shit, ain't it?" 

"You started spitting racial slurs at him, you massive dick!" you yelled, stalking over to the window and squinting out at the night. You were three floors up, which meant you'd probably live but jumping out would hurt like hell. And, of course, then there'd be the running and the riding to contend with. So you probably shouldn't do that. 

"Hell, girl, ya heard what he had to say about you first!" Merle actually sounded affronted, like he couldn't believe you weren't thanking him for defending your honor. 

You slammed your forehead against the window as the gunshots got closer. "He said he'd seen me dance, Merle. Was there connotation? Yes. Could I handle it? Also very much yes. You did this." 

He chuckled again. "Not according to club rules, I ain't. Whoever shots first, darlin'. That was that Vatos bitch in there." 

The son of a bitch was actually right. That was what club rules said. He'd found a fucking loophole. 

Now if he could just find a goddamn way out of here that didn't involve you getting shot or breaking a leg going out the window, that'd actually be useful. 

"Relax, girlie. We just gotta sit our assess tight right here and everything'll be just fine," Merle drawled as you headed around the room looking for another way out. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" you snapped at him. You climbed up onto a table and started poking at the ceiling, trying to get one of the panels loose so you could climb up and maybe move to another room via the ceiling. Merle had leaned his hip on the table by your feet and now grinned up at you. 

"Cavalry's comin', baby girl," he drawled. 

The sounds of gunfire doubled, and you groaned as you realized the two of you had been the bait all along. And since the Vatos delegation had shot first, they could hardly complain about your people taking them out. War was avoided, but the message was sent: jump Merle and try to move into Nameless territory; get yourselves killed. 

 

 

Of course, about five minutes in, zombies came out of fucking nowhere and nearly surrounded you. Michonne watched with a distinctly unimpressed expression as Rick gave orders that had the four of you from the prison in tight formation, and you shot her an amused grin as you stabbed out at one when it was your turn. 

Then the running commenced, with Rick pointing the way through the weakest part of the herd and you guarding the back end of the caravan with Michonne. You missed having Walsh at your back, which made you wonder when in the hell you'd gone good guy. You were freaked the fuck out to admit it, but most of the time you didn't even think of yourself as a criminal anymore. Prolonged association with the officer and the deputy had you wondering if the Nameless you were headed toward would be good or bad. 

There was a time when that literally would not have mattered: they were Nameless. You were Nameless. You were on their side. 

Rick somehow found you a shack in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and everyone dove into it. You slammed the door shut behind you as the zombies boiled out of the woods and staggered your way. You set your back against the door and looked around for the first time. 

Daryl ran a glance over you and clearly pronounced you ok- which you were- before turning his own attention back to the shack. "Ugh. That smell is loud," he declared, shining his flashlight over the room along with Rick. 

Their beams landed on the decaying carcass of a dog, and Daryl made a truly horrendous joke about Lassie that had you groaning from your position against the door. Michonne stood still in the middle of the place, not staying with you but not going with the other three either. She had the lost look of someone without a role in the group, and you got that. 

The pounding against the door began and you sighed. "Company, boys," you whispered. 

Then Rick discovered some crazy motherfucker asleep in his bed with a shotgun, who had somehow slept through the racket your group was making and Daryl's terrible humor. 

"We don't mean any harm," Rick tried to reassure the guy while you came off the door, gun in hand, to cover them better. 

The lucky son of a bitch started yelling, and the pounding on the door behind you got worse. "Rick, shut him up," you hissed. 

The man yelled something about calling the cops and Rick snapped back that he was a cop. It was the first time in a long time you'd heard him acknowledge that fact, and it might have warmed your heart if not for the present insane circumstances. 

The asshole with the shotgun was demanding to see Rick's badge, which you knew for an absolute fucking fact was back on Hershel's overrun farm, and Rick declared it was in his pocket. You were giving serious thought to shooting the guy, and made eye contact with Daryl to signify that intention. Daryl made a not-yet-you-crazy-bitch face back, but he had his knife up and looked ready to pounce as well. 

"I'm just going to reach down, nice and slow," Rick said, and dropped one hand toward the floor. The asshole's eyes followed Rick's motion and the deputy moved. He slammed the shotgun to the side and the bastard pulled the trigger, Daryl spinning out of the way just the fuck in time. 

You yelled Daryl's name, two steps toward the scuffle as Rick grabbed the guy in a headlock. You honestly weren't sure who you were more pissed at- the asshole for shooting or Rick for knocking the shotgun Daryl's way. 

"I'm fine, baby," Daryl snapped, so apparently you looked rather murderous. You glared at him, and he came toward you while Rick continued to reason with the asshole. 

Then, because of course he did, the asshole fucking bit Rick's hand and took off for the door. Before you could get your gun up, Michonne had run him through with that badass sword. 

Everyone froze, staring at her. You were the first to really react. 

"Badass," you whispered with a grin, and slid forward to look out the gaps in the door. "Ugh. Remember the Alamo?" 

"That bad?" Rick asked. 

You made a face at him, looked around again, and glanced at the dead bastard as a thought hit you. Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, you were going to hell for sure. "I've got an idea. Help me with the door." 

They caught on rather quickly, and Daryl and Rick started to scoop up the body. Michonne looked vaguely impressed at the idea, but Oscar was most definitely against it. He got overruled due to lack of any better ideas lying around. You opened the door, Rick and Daryl chucked the body out while Oscar made faces, and all five of you hauled ass out the back and around the feasting zombies. 

This was a less than stellar start to your rescue operation, in your opinion.


	61. The Ultimate Sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of rape/non con  
> drug use

Full dark fell while you approached, and the way you saw it, that was probably better anyway. Though avoiding zombies in the dark was the kind of low-budget horror flick shit show you generally tried to avoid. Then again, so was sneaking into an enemy compound to rescue your friends with someone you knew next to nothing about. 

And who had just decided to sneak away. Well god fucking damn it. 

Rick glared after her and then decided you needed to downsize. You weren't a thousand percent sure of that, but he was the boss. Daryl raised the valid point that there was no way to check all the buildings. Luckily for them, you'd done this before. 

Ok, that was a lie. You'd done something vaguely similar before when you'd been asked to plant some shit in a guy's apartment before you called the police on him. You'd cat burgled your way into a couple of places as well, but that was about it. You'd never tried to bust anyone out of anywhere. Oh well, first time for everything, right? 

A twig snapped and Michonne reappeared behind you, gesturing silently for you all to follow her. You grinned at Rick and headed after the woman with the sword. You were pretty sure you heard Rick muttering something about fucking criminals while you went. 

 

 

She led you to a an empty room. 

"This where you were held?" Rick asked. 

"Where I was questioned," Michonne hissed. 

Rick's jaw did that thing it did when he was irritated. "Any idea where else they could be?" 

"They could be in his apartment," she answered after a minute's thought. 

"You said you could help us!" 

"Relax, Deputy. She's doing what she can," you told Rick as you glanced out the window. He shot you the annoyed look and you flashed him a smile in return. "We'll get them. It's cool. Someone's coming."

Rick's glare intensified with your last statement, but everyone dove for cover. Daryl joined you on either side of the door, and you waited. 

"I know you're in here. Saw you movin' from outside," the old man called as he came in. He shut the door behind him without looking, and as soon as it clicked shut you and Daryl moved in sync. 

You had him zip tied with a gun in his face before he could do more than draw a breath. 

"Where are our people?" you asked. 

He stared at you, fear in his eyes. "I don't know. I don't know." 

"You're holding some of our people. Where the hell are they?" you asked again, and he shook his head rapidly. "Shit. He really doesn't know." 

Rick slapped a rag into the man's mouth and you clocked him over the head once with the butt of your gun. On to plan C. 

 

 

Plan C evolved rapidly with an onset of sudden shouting and gunfire. Since it wasn't directed at you, a glance at Rick and Daryl showed them in agreement that it probably meant your people had found a way to fuck things up. Either that or something else interesting was happening out there, and either way, you were in. 

"Well, that seems like as good a direction as any," you muttered to them. Daryl shook his head at you with a smirk and an eye roll, and Rick gave you a steady look. 

"You really are crazy, you know that?" he said. 

"Says the man getting phone calls from a phone that wasn't plugged in," you shot back with a roll of your eyes. 

Oscar and Daryl both eyed him warily, and Rick frowned. "Thanks for that." 

"Oh, whatever. You're back now, it's all good. Grief fucks people up," you said with a shrug. "Come on, let's go."

Rick lead the way into the street, Daryl and Oscar at his heels and you and Michonne taking the rear. You followed the gunfire and general pandemonium to another metal building, this one looking hastily constructed a little away from the surrounding structures. 

Slipping inside was bizarrely easy, since by the time you got there whatever had been happening had clearly come to an end. Rick led the way to cover, and you all grouped together around the bag full of flash-bangs and smoke grenades. You had about two seconds to plan, and none of you had even begun when you heard someone saying 'on your feet, move!' 

There was a quick widening of eyes, then everyone was grabbing a grenade out of the bag, Rick scooped it up, and you all tossed your selected bombs and retreated around another corner. 

Smoke filled the air, Rick, Daryl, and Oscar ran forward into the mess, and you covered them and the rear along with Michonne. They came back out leading Maggie and Glenn with their hands bound, Glenn beat all to hell and Maggie wearing Glenn's shirt. 

Well, now you were ready to kill some people. 

 

 

The thing was, you'd run with a bad crowd before the world ended. You knew it; they knew it; everyone involved knew it. But there were certain lines in the sand that didn't get crossed. 

Number one was, you don't fuck with kids. No matter what, no matter the situation, kids were off limits. It didn't matter if it was the grand high pooh-bah of your worst rivals- his kids? They were untouchable. The kid of the grand high pooh-bah could come stab you in the kneecap in front of everyone and you'd smile and say 'how adorable is that munchkin?' 

Rule number two: families were off limits if they weren't in the club. The grand high pooh-bah's wife was completely safe as long as she was outside the issue. If, however, she picked up a gun and mowed down your messenger, then she was a target. Kids and spouses got a pass, always. 

Rule number three: you could beat the shit out of whoever the fuck you wanted. You could fuck whoever the fuck you wanted. As long as whoever you were fucking was in full and enthusiastic agreement. 

You'd been surprised by the club's collective opinion on rape and sexual assault. Shit, you put a group of outlaws together, mostly men, and give them guns, drugs, booze, and big loud metal thunder machines; you'd almost expect a certain neolithic caveman attitude toward sex in general and women in particular, right? Wrong. It was literally in the bylaws that if a member was found to have raped someone, the penalty at the very least was expulsion from the club. 

That, by the way, meant evidence of your crimes being dropped discretely off with a contact in Atlanta PD as well as being stripped of your colors and club rights. 

The other end of the punishment spectrum was... bloody. 

If a Nameless had been involved in why the fuck Maggie was wearing Glenn's shirt, you'd be enforcing the bloody end of the spectrum real fucking soon, damn it. 

 

 

"C'mon, Merle, you gotta be shitting me," you said incredulously. 

He looked down at where you lay with your head in his lap, staring up at him with your vision vaguely blurry. He grinned and took another deep draw on the joint in his hand before passing it to you. You copied his motion as he took a swig from the bottle you'd been splitting as well. The two of you had been drinking and smoking steadily for awhile after he'd shown up on your doorstep with two bottles of Jack, a bag of product from the club, and the declaration that Daryl was being a pussy about needing to work the next day and had kicked him out. 

"Sure'n certain, girlie. There we are, middle of a fuckin' delivery, and this asshole walks up to some poor bitch workin' the corner, grabs her fuckin' arm, and yanks her into an alley. Now I's just a damn prospect at the time, no more'n eight months in the club, and I'm just standin' there wonderin' what the fuck I'm s'posed to do. Was he payin' for it? I sure as hell didn't think so, and then all the sudden I can hear the woman scream and start cryin' her eyes out. I just- baby girl, I just fuckin' lost it," he said, waving the bottle as he talked. "Punched him clean out. Called the Sarge to turn myself over to him, thinkin' that's it, I'm out on my ass, right? And he came down'n collected this dick's unconscious ass. Took one look at the cryin' hooker with a bruise on her cheek and a ripped shirt and took 'im straight to the pigs. Said I done good and gave me a bonus." 

"And he's getting out next week?" you asked, eyes narrowing as you considered. 

Merle's laugh was harsh and wild. "Yessiree, baby girl. An' when he gets out, guess who's gonna be votin' to see if he keeps his rights? Ol' Merle. He ain't gonna ride with the damn club again. Don't ya worry about it one minute." 

You snorted. "I wasn't," you told him lazily. "I was wondering if he would survive if I cut off something most men think is important." 

Merle cackled again and passed you back the joint. "This some good shit, ain't it, girlie? I could do ya one better'n just cuttin' his dick off. Could put him in the ground if ya wanted." 

"Jesus, Merle." You dissolved into coughing as you choked on his suggestion. "Don't say shit like that, man. I'm the first one they'll call in to testify if you get charged with shit." 

He laughed again and patted your hair clumsily. "Fair enough. Cain't stand nobody puttin' their damn hands on no woman without 'er permission. Ya foster dad was fuckin' bad enough. Seen what he put ya through, and he ain't even-" Merle cut off with a snarl. "Bastard got what he fuckin' deserved." 

"Amen," you muttered, taking the bottle from his hands and sitting up. The world dipped and spun like mad and you giggled. "Shit, Merle. What the hell are we on right now?" 

He leaned into you and kissed your cheek sloppily. "Damn if I know, baby girl. Hey, let's watch somethin'." 

You focused on your living room as you took another long drink. "Fuck, man, I think we already are. Goddamn, it's been awhile since I've been this fucked." 

Merle reached for the bottle and you leaned over to hand it to him. You wound up falling against his shoulder and just kind of stayed there, because his shoulder was warm and strong under your cheek and you were so damn tired. It'd been about three weeks since Daryl moved out and you hadn't really been sleeping much at all.   
The last good sleep you'd gotten was when Merle came over completely smashed and crashed on your couch. You'd left your bedroom door open and fallen asleep listening to his thunderous snore with a smile on your face. 

"Ya fall asleep on me, girlie?" Merle asked, poking your side insistently. 

You groaned and slumped down further, head sliding onto his chest. "Shut up, asshole. Ain't slept right since the last time you were here." 

"Shit." He scooted toward the arm of the couch and you fell from slumped on his chest to laid out with your cheek against his thigh. His hand rested on your shoulder as he propped his feet up on the coffee table. "Ya need more sleep'n that. What the fuck's the problem?" 

"You're such a mother hen, Merle," you muttered, yawning and then giggling. "Such a clucking mother hen. God, I'm funny." 

He snorted and stuck his hand over your face while you laughed. "Shut up, bitch. Ain't nothin' funny 'bout ya not sleepin'." 

"Bite me," you shot back, turning to grin up at him as he stretched his arm over the back of the couch instead of over you. "The problem, asshole, is that I can't fuckin' sleep right without a Dixon around. You two jerks been making me feel safe enough to sleep for so long, I can't do it without you." You frowned, not having intended to be that honest, and sighed as he stared down at you, eyes concerned. "It's fine. Don't throw a damn bitch fit on me. I'll adjust eventually." 

"Ya wakin' up at the same time every night? Ya havin' nightmares again, baby girl?" he demanded, face intense. 

You yawned again and closed your eyes. "Always wake up at twelve thirty. Never stopped. And nightmares would require actually sleeping. He's not the problem. He's dead. It's the lack of Dixon presence, asshole. So shut up and let me sleep."


	62. Thunderstruck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of dug use  
> mentions of attempted rape/non con

You covered the rear again, beating a hasty retreat with Rick in the lead supporting Glenn, and Daryl covering them all on point. Rick ducked everyone into a side building, and you were the last one through. Michonne slipped out, shot you a pleading look, and closed the door. 

Well, you didn't have time or energy to try to stop her from doing something quasi-suicidal, so you let her go. 

You kept an eye out the window while discussion raged and Daryl and Oscar determined that there wasn't a back exit, listening to them with half an ear as you wondered how in the hell you were going to find the other fucking Nameless in this mess and either enforce the damn club rules- like was your fucking job- or get them to come with you. Seriously, this place was going nuts and there were way too many variables. You needed to get your people out and to safety, but- 

It was a Nameless. 

"Daryl, YN- this was Merle." 

You spun and fucking stared at Glenn. "Say what now?" 

"I saw him. He did this. He threw a walker at me; was going to execute us," Glenn said grimly. 

"So- so my brother's this Governor?" Daryl said, the confusion and disbelief in his voice echoing what was running through your own mind. 

"No," Maggie snapped. "That's someone else. Merle's his lieutenant or something." 

You read her tone easily, knowing the someone else who was the Governor was the one responsible for her wardrobe change. That was a relief, to say the least, since you'd been dumbfounded by the idea that Merle fucking Dixon could have been involved in that. 

He'd killed someone who'd tried to rape you, so how the fuck were you supposed to believe he was backing someone who'd obviously done something to Maggie? No, there was an explanation. There had to be. 

"Does he know we're still with you?" Daryl asked, his tone dazed. 

"He does now. Rick, I'm sorry. We told him where the prison was. We couldn't hold out," Glenn said.

"Don't," you snapped at Glenn. "You have nothing to apologize for. Jesus, look at you." You glanced out the window, already trying to come up with a plan, but your mind was spinning as you tried to process Merle's involvement. He had to be high. This Governor asshole had to be keeping him supplied, or something major was going on, or-

"Rick-" you started, but he was giving you the intense-friendly look, hand up to caution you. 

"No, YN. You can't." 

"Deputy, it's-" 

"I know. But we've got to-" 

"Rick, damn it!" 

"I said no!" he hissed, the friendly turning into a hard stare as you reversed the rolls of your usual argument. "Do you see them? They need our help. We have to get them out of here." 

"But it's my brother. We can't just leave him," Daryl's voice was as lost as you felt, and you reached for him with a trembling hand. 

Rick looked between you, eyes hard and demanding. "I need you two. I need you to hold it together and help me get them out. No matter what they say, they are hurt. Glenn can barely walk. What are we gonna do if we get overrun by walkers or this Governor catches up to us? Damn it, I need you to help me watch their backs. Are you with me?"

You shot Daryl an agonized look, torn between your responsibilities to Merle, to Rick, to Maggie and Glenn. 

"With ya, man," Daryl muttered, pain in his eyes as his gaze lingered on the two of them huddled together. 

You breathed deeply, eyes closed and jaw tightening as you struggled. "Yes. Fine. We get them out, and then I'm going back, Rick. I'm going back." 

"We'll talk about it. Let's go," Rick said. 

 

 

You cut the engine and pulled off your helmet, resting it on you handlebars as you stretched your arms upward and felt your back pop in a couple of places. Beside you, Daryl and Merle were doing something similar, and Merle started bitching almost immediately about his arms. 

"Then buy a new bike, idiot," you called to him, grinning. "Stop bitching. Just look at that view, guys!" You gestured out toward the mountains in front of you, turning back yourself to stare in awe. You, Daryl, and Merle were riding the Blue Ridge Parkway for the first time and you were floored. The country up here was even more beautiful than you'd imagined, and it was worth every minute of sore ass and stiff back muscles you were going to have from this thing. 

You turned back to the boys and found Daryl watching you with a soft smile on his lips. A blush rose on his cheeks when you caught him looking and he shot his eyes quickly to the mountains in front of you. 

"Beautiful," Daryl muttered as you swung off your bike and stepped over to his. You grabbed his hand and tugged until he got up as well, scowling at you in annoyance as you drug him toward the overlook's railing. 

"Merle, come on!" you called. "We didn't ride all this way just to sit around bitching, did we?" 

Merle rolled his eyes at you, but he got off the Triumph as well. Instead of coming over to where you and Daryl were, though, he stalked over to the picnic table nearby and flopped down on his back on it, staring up at the sky as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tucked one between his lips. 

"Spoil-sport!" you yelled at him, and he shot his middle finger up at you as he light the cigarette. 

"Ignore him. He's grumpy 'cause I wouldn't let him snort a line before we left," Daryl muttered, setting one foot on the railing beside you and leaning his elbows on it. "He'll get over it once we get some breakfast." 

You smiled at him and tipped your head to Daryl's shoulder. "This trip is so worth it," you whispered. "Glad we're doing this before he leaves." 

Daryl's shoulder jerked under yours. "Don't wanna think about him leavin'." 

"Yeah. Doesn't seem real. I can't imagine life without him right here," you said sadly. On the table, Merle yelled something at you about damn fools and breakfast burritos. Daryl waved him off without looking away from the mountain view. 

"Shit, baby. He was in juvie half the time when he was at home, and then he left while we were still there. Ain't gotta think to hard to picture it," Daryl said bitterly. 

You shrugged and lifted your head to look at him. "That was different. Juvie's one thing. Moving to Atlanta was rough, but with both of those he was just a phone call away. He's going to be gone, Dixon. And-" your voice cracked. "He may not come back." 

Daryl scowled at you. "Don't say shit like that. He always comes back." 

You swallowed back the tears suddenly threatening to fall. "Yeah. Yeah, I know," you muttered. 

Merle stalked over to you both and glanced over the view once. "There. I looked at it. We gonna get some fuckin' food now or what? I's promised some damn donuts and I expect 'em before noon, darlin'." 

You patted his cheek and smirked at him. "You're cute when you're crabby, Merle." 

"Shit, baby girl. I'll toss ya ass over the edge ya call me cute again." 

"Jesus, Merle. Can ya shut your damn mouth for two seconds, man? Every damn minute," Daryl muttered. They started arguing about who even knew what as you watched them with a grin. 

You turned and headed for the bikes without saying anything, catching your helmet up and pulling it on while they argued. 

"Hey! Where the fuck ya think you're goin', baby girl?" Merle called to you as you swung a leg over the seat of the Triumph. 

"Catch me and find out!" You yelled, kicking Merle's bike to life and rolling out with a shot of gravel and roar of the engine. 

"Damn it, girl!" You heard him yell as you peeled out, and you were laughing as you leaned into the first curve. 

 

 

The escape devolved rapidly into a lot of running, shooting, and tossing smoke grenades. People were shooting at you, so you fucking had to shoot back at them, but everything inside you started screaming, knowing Merle was out in that mess somewhere. 

If you hit him; if he died before you could ask him what the fuck was going on, you wouldn't survive that shit. 

"You guys go ahead. Imma lay down some cover fire," Daryl said. 

"No, we have to stay together!" Maggie protested, but you were already snatching one of the rifles and shaking your head. 

"No, he's right. Too hairy. We'll cover you. Just get the fuck out of here, ok? Be right behind you." 

"The fuck ya think you're doin', baby? You're goin' with them," Daryl snarled at you. 

You glared at him. "We really going to argue right now, or are we going to get their asses out of here?" 

He held your glare for a minute longer, but finally gave up. "C'mon then, damn it." 

 

 

A pull of a pin and a toss of a grenade later, you were deep in another firefight. You and Daryl had split, moving away from each other as you laid down fire to keep the return shots spread out. 

You kept an eye on the others' progress, so you knew when Oscar took the hit. Rick was screaming for the two of you to fall back with them, and you didn't respond. Daryl yelled for him to go and started to move with them, but you saw the group coming up as you both had to reload. 

"Shit," you muttered. 

And then you saw him. 

Merle was in the group moving forward, some metal thing strapped to the arm he'd cut the hand from. He wore his Nameless vest still, laced at the sides, and your heart clenched at the hard look in his eyes. You faded into the shadows to watch, knowing there was no way for you to get over the wall with Rick now or for you to rescue Daryl as they headed for him. 

Fuck. Some rescue mission this was shaping up to be. 

 

 

You flew across the school yard, pulling your backpack from your shoulders as you ran and dropping it without a thought. You shoved a kid out of your way and others parted like the red sea in front of you as you ran toward the fight in the distance. A circle of high schoolers had formed around the fight by the time you got there, yelling at the senior douchebag to kick Merle's ass. 

You grabbed the first guy blocking your way and tossed him aside. 

"What the?" he yelped as he slammed into the football jersey clad dick beside him, but you were already shoving your way past the next one in line. They stared in disbelief as a skinny twelve-year-old girl in ripped jeans, combat boots, and a faded Def Leppard t shirt hauled off and sucker punched the asshole pounding on Merle. 

"Hey! Pick on someone your own size!" you yelled as you did, hands up and ready like Merle had taught you. 

The guy touched his bleeding nose and sneered. "What, like you? You're a freakin' girl." 

You grinned and socked him again, this time clean in the gut. He moaned and doubled over and a gasp went through the gathered high schoolers. None of them had expected a scrawny middle schooler to jump into a fight between a senior and a sophomore. 

"What the fuck, little girl?" the senior yelled, straightening back up. "I don't want to kick your ass, bitch, but I will!" 

You snorted and crossed your arms. "You couldn't kick my ass if you tried. Come on, I dare you." 

Merle put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you back and behind him. "Easy there, baby girl. I got this," he muttered to you as he wiped blood from his lip with his other hand.

The senior sneered. "What, this your girlfriend or something? Shit, Merle, I knew you were redneck shit, but I didn't think you were into little girls." 

"Watch your mouth, sunshine," you snapped at him. "This little girl'll put you on your ass if you say shit like that to him again." 

"Yeah? What if I do this?" the guy shot back, swinging wildly at Merle. Merle ducked it and pushed you out of the way, taking the next hit directly to his face as he did. You yelled and started forward, but Daryl grabbed your arm, dragging you back as Merle laughed again. 

"Shit, YN, stay out of it! That's a fuckin' senior, ya idiot," Daryl hissed in your ear, holding you in place.

"I know!" you snarled. "He had Merle on the ground and was kicking the shit out of his ribs, Dixon. I know for a fact he's already bruised all to hell there from Will last night." 

"Fuck," Daryl muttered, glancing at Merle worriedly as he tackled the senior asshole. The crowd was yelling again as the two of them hit the ground and you winced as Merle cried out when he took another hit to that same side. 

"We have to do something," you insisted, starting forward again. 

"YN! Damn it!" Daryl yelled, but you dashed in and punched out at the asshole again. He turned and grabbed your shirt, yanking you in as he punched with his other hand, but at least he was leaving Merle alone. 

You took the hit on your cheek and yelped, trying to stagger backward but held in place by his grip on you. He hauled back again, and you braced yourself, but the asshole was abruptly not there anymore. Daryl had gotten into the fight now, and the jerk was on the ground groaning. 

Merle grabbed your hand and pulled, shoving through the gasping, chattering crowd and yelling at Daryl to come on. He didn't slow down until you were off school property and halfway home, and then Merle yanked you around to face him. 

"What the fuck was that? Huh? Ya lose your damn mind, girlie?" he yelled. 

You winced and touched the eye you could already feel swelling. "What? He was all up on those ribs I just looked at for you last night, dick. Couldn't just let him beat the shit out of you. Hell, they're probably broken now." 

Merle pulled you into a hard hug and then shoved you away with a scowl. "Don't do that again. Come on, gotta get some water on that damn eye. Little brother, ya ok?" he snapped at Daryl. 

Daryl nodded wordlessly and handed you your backpack. You swung it over your shoulder with a grin at Daryl. "Thanks for the save, Dixon."

He snorted. "Any time," he muttered as both of you followed Merle's angry stalk toward home.


	63. Street Fighting Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of possible rape/non con

You might not have been good at tracking people through the woods, but slipping unnoticed through an urban jungle was one of your skill sets. A weirdly military small town with fires for streetlights and a shit ton of armed assholes who'd taken your newly-no-longer-ex boyfriend hostage was close enough to count, you decided. 

You tailed them back to what was clearly an illicit fighting ring. Well, maybe not so illicit, since it looked like most of the population of this place had gathered there and it was lit up like fucking Christmas. You'd seen similar set ups before, for dog fighting, cock fighting, and human fighting. The only questions you really had for this particular fight club involved what kind of fighting had been happening here in the past, and what kind of bullshit was about to go down now. 

Merle stood at the edge of the ring, and you studied him from within the crowd. You'd stumbled across a dead motherfucker as you followed them and put him down before he could turn- he'd been shot in the gut, so he was probably taken down by some of yours- and had stripped off his jacket. The thing had a hood, and you'd pulled it on over your own leather jacket and vest, tucking the hood up to shadow your face. 

You'd taken a deep breath and filtered into the arena on the heels of another small group, keeping your head down. No one had looked at you twice yet. Thank God for general panic. 

Now you started easing your way closer to him and the asshole who held Daryl's crossbow beside him. Merle looked sober enough, and that worried you more than anything else this night had brought on so far. 

If Merle was sober and involved in all this shit, was he even the man you knew and loved? 

You'd gotten closer than you'd expected to when you noticed Andrea and froze. Well, fuck. She'd survived the winter somehow. Was she another of your people you had to get out or was she an enemy now? Then you ducked behind a Woodbury resident as a man who was clearly in charge came striding into the ring. 

He had a bandage over one eye that looked fresh as fuck, and you hoped that meant one of your people had gotten a shot off. As soon as he started his speech, you decided Michonne had been spot on in her description of him. And Andrea was clearly eating it up. 

You risked another shift in position, sliding over another few steps toward Merle. Of course, across the way, Andrea's eyes shot to you. You stood still, ducking your head and trying to stay in the shadow of your hood. Her forehead wrinkled as she stared at you, though, and you brought your hand up to your face and jerked your shoulders like you were coughing, trying to keep her from recognizing you. 

"I'm afraid. That's right. I'm afraid of terrorists who want what we have!" the Governor declared. You rolled your eyes mentally at that, because no, you wanted nothing to do with what he had. You wanted your own people back. Unfortunately, it was definitely working on these asshats. Andrea's attention went back to him and you let out an exhale of relief. 

That didn't last long, even as you shifted again, because the head asshole kept talking. 

"Who want to destroy us! Worse- because one of those terrorists is one of our own." 

Well, there's an interesting development, you thought. You shot a glance around as Andrea did the same, and you locked eyes with her. Hers went wide, mouth opening in a little 'o' of exclamation, and you had about three seconds to make some rapid decisions before she did something stupid like yell out your name. 

Unfortunately, you had no idea what the fuck to do. 

Time's up.

"YN?" Andrea yelled. 

Fucking hell. 

The Governor whirled to see what she was yelling at; you snatched out the gun on your thigh; and everyone around you turned to stare. You met Merle's eyes as your gun snapped up, and you flashed him a grin you didn't feel as he stared, open mouthed, for a split second. 

"Seize her! She's one of them!" the Governor roared. 

The people around you converged on you all at once and you started swinging. You caught one with the butt of your gun, slammed your forehead into the nose of another, and kicked out at a third before someone grabbed you from behind and got an arm around your neck. 

You kept struggling, but they got the gun from your hand and had you pinned by pure volume of numbers, taking you to your knees as the Governor approached. Someone wrapped zip ties around your wrists and pulled them tight enough to bruise as the Governor looked down at you.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked. 

"Governor!" Merle said, stepping between you and him. "That's my little sister, man. The one I told ya about." 

The Governor stared at him, shaking his head. A faint gleam appeared in his eyes that sent a shiver of unease down your spine. 

"Of course. Of course she is. She's one of them. So are you," he proclaimed, and you saw the change in Merle's posture as his words sank in. Merle's shoulders went tight and he shifted forward on his feet, ready to spring into action.

The Governor turned back to the crowd. "I said one of our own was a terrorist. Here he is. Merle! The man I counted on; the man I trusted. He led 'em here. And he let 'em in." 

"The fuck are ya talkin' about?" Merle demanded, even as the asshole with Daryl's crossbow took the gun from his belt. 

"It was you. You lied, betrayed us all. This woman, who was standing among us. Pretending to be one of us. She's one of the terrorists. This is another," the Governor said, gesturing toward the side of the arena. 

Curiosity got the better of you again, even though you had a feeling what you were about to see would be Daryl. You just hoped it'd be an alive Daryl, not Daryl's body. You watched, instantly relieved, as a couple more of the assholes drug in a struggling Daryl Dixon with a bag over his head. The Governor grabbed him by the arm and your eyes narrowed. 

That motherfucker needed to get his hands off of Daryl right the fuck now. 

The Governor ripped the bag off his head and Daryl started looking around wildly. His eyes landed on Merle first and then on you, and he looked panicked. 

You just shrugged and lifted your eyebrows, like 'what can you do?' 

"Merle's own brother! And the woman- he says is his sister!" 

"Sister in law," you called, just to be annoying. Judging from the look on the Governor's face, you succeeded. 

Daryl's eyes met yours again and held, and you saw the softness in them as well as the worry. And ok, no, the two of you weren't married and were barely back to being a couple. At the same time, you were pretty sure you'd been quasi-married since you were about sixteen- maybe even earlier- and who the fuck cared about formalities anyway? Especially since you were a solid eighty-five percent certain you were about to die. 

And an extra especially since the crowd was currently chanting for you all three to be killed. Well, this was going to be good. In, like, the worst possible way. 

 

 

Having a slew of people wanting you dead wasn't exactly a new experience for you. Having a slew of people actively chanting for your very public execution, however, definitely qualified as one. 

"Hey, Merle. Missed you in Atlanta," you called to him, earning you a smack on the back of the head from someone behind you. 

Daryl snarled and lunged at whoever it was, but you shook it off and craned your neck to see some dude with a smirk and a backwards ball cap. 

"That the best you've got?" you asked, letting your lip curl in a sneer. 

"Shut the fuck up, bitch," he shot back. 

You scoffed and went back to paying attention to the one-eyed asshole who wanted you dead. Andrea seemed to be trying to stop it, because another of the Governor's henchmen had her arms behind her back. 

"I asked you where your loyalties lie," the Governor said, talking to Merle only. "You said here. Prove it." 

Someone cut the ropes off Daryl's arms, and he took two steps in your direction before the same someone got in his way and forced him back over to Merle. You shook your head at him once- you were fine, damn it- and kept searching for a way out. It wasn't looking so great. 

"Brother against brother," the Governor continued. 

Well, he certainly had your attention. "The fuck?" you exclaimed, and he turned that annoyed look back on you. 

"You, we'll find another way to deal with. As for them? Fight to the death. Winner goes free," he said. 

You heaved a dramatic sigh. "Oh, that is rich. It's because I'm a girl, isn't it? Fuck you, sexist asshat, I could kick both their asses and then yours." 

You got another blow to the back of the head for that one, and you turned around to glare at the guy again. "Ok, ow? Can you not?" 

"I told you to shut the fuck up!" he snarled back. 

You lifted both eyebrows. "That one eyed bastard is talking about Roman-style gladiator fighting and I'm the one you want to shut up?" 

"Martinez, gag her!" the Governor snarled. Martinez must have been the bastard who'd been hitting you, because he stepped forward, slapped you across the face, and grabbed your jaw. He forced an extremely foul-tasting something into your mouth while you stared at him with bored eyes. 

When in doubt, go into bitch mode. It'd worked for you so far, anyway. 

Merle didn't look at you as the Governor repeated his fight to the death plan. Your eyes narrowed as he looked once at Daryl, then started playing to the crowd. 

This bastard was going to do it, wasn't he? He was going to fight Daryl, possibly to the death, to prove to some possibly rapist prick that he was loyal. 

Who the hell was he, and what the fuck had happened to Merle? 

 

 

Twelve thirty pm, and your eyes snapped open. Daryl was warm beside you, breathing steadily in the darkness with his arm tossed above his head. You smiled and ran a hand over his cheek. He mumbled something, turning toward your hand in his sleep. 

You slid from the bed quietly so you didn't wake him up and headed for the living room to check on Merle. He'd passed out on the couch just a few hours after you'd gotten him home, jet lagged and exhausted. He was home for good, and you hadn't been able to stop smiling since you'd found that out a few weeks before.

Seeing him in uniform always felt strange, and there'd been something about him since he got back. You'd heard it in his voice during his infrequent phone calls over the last few months, an air of sadness and pain that never quite seemed to leave him. You'd seen it in his face as soon as you saw him today, as well. He'd held on to you and Daryl both a little long and a little tightly, and he'd been more subdued that you'd ever seen him. You'd talked to Daryl about it when the two of you went to bed, laying with your head on his shoulder in the dark and whispering your worries to him.

You moved quietly through the darkened apartment, expecting to find Merle snoring on the couch where you'd tucked the blanket around him and pressed a kiss to his forehead a couple of hours before. The couch was empty when you got there, though, the blanket balled at one end and one of the cushions in the floor. 

You frowned, wondering where in the world he'd gotten off to. It was a pretty small apartment, and you didn't think he'd have gone anywhere in the middle of the night. You moved into the kitchen, expecting to find him standing over your sink with a glass of water or a snack or something, but the kitchen was empty. 

You paused for a minute, confused, and frowned. You followed the faint sound, not sure what it was you were hearing, to your bathroom door. You paused outside it, confused by what you were hearing and by the fact that the light was out. 

If it'd been anyone else you were looking for, you would have sworn the sound you heard was muffled sobbing. 

You hesitated, not sure what to do for a minute. It was Merle. Merle didn't cry. Shit, you'd seen Merle take a beating from Will's belt so bad that the blood had run down his back and pool in the floor, and his eyes stayed dry and hot as the fixed on the crack in his closet where you'd been watching with your hand over your mouth to keep from screaming.

Merle Dixon didn't cry. 

You knocked on the bathroom door gently. "Merle?" 

He didn't say anything, but you heard the shaky breath he drew in before the sound of someone retching. 

"Damn it," you muttered. "You better be decent, 'cause I'm coming in." You opened the door and stepped into the bathroom, your foot bumping into him almost immediately. He was curled on his side on the floor, and you were pretty sure you stopped breathing. "Merle?" 

"Go away, baby girl," he whispered, voice so rough and broken you could barely make out the words. 

"Not likely, asshole," you whispered back, dropping down to the floor to curl up facing him. There wasn't really enough space for the two of you to be laying on your bathroom floor like this, so you were almost nose-to-nose. You tossed your arm over him in the darkness and waited. 

He kept trying to look away; trying to hide the way his breath hitched and the tears on his cheeks, but he couldn't. Finally you brought your hand up to touch his cheek, and he uncurled enough to reach for you with shaking hands. You pulled him in, tucking his head into your shoulder, in silence as his body shook and he cried. 

When he pulled away, still trembling, you let him. You climbed to your feet as he pushed unsteadily to lean against the wall, and you held down a hand to him. He didn't take it and you sighed. 

"Couch is way more comfortable than the floor, brother." 

He rose after a minute, and you led the way into the living room, grabbing the displaced cushion and blanket and fussing over him until he scowled at you and hissed at you to cut that shit out now, he was fine. 

"No you're not," you told him, curling up beside him where he sat and leaning your head on his shoulder. Your hand crept toward his and he grabbed it like a lifeline, wrapping both of his big hands around yours. "You don't have to talk about it, but you don't have to pretend either. Even heroes melt down, you know."

"I ain't no hero, baby girl," he whispered. 

You scoffed and tilted your head to kiss his jaw. "You're mine, asshole. Wanna talk about it?" 

"I cain't. Ain't no way I'd ever drop that shit on you, girlie. Don't ask, aight?" 

You nodded. "Ok. We can just sit here if you want." 

He hesitated, then his lips brushed your forehead. "I'd like that, darlin'." 

You curled up closer to him without a word, privately cursing the powers that be that had taken one of the strongest people you'd ever known from you and returned him broken.


	64. We're Not Gonna Take It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> past child abuse

The fight was short but brutal, and watching it bound and gagged and on your knees broke your heart. You were crying as you watched your brother beat the shit out of the man you loved. For nothing. 

Didn't he know this bastard wasn't going to let him leave here? Merle was as good as dead. You all were. 

What the hell had happened to you and the Dixons? 

 

 

You were cheating off of Daryl's homework when the door to the Dixon's trailer slammed shut and Daryl and Merle both went stiff. Daryl's eyes widened as they flicked to you and back to Merle, both of them going deadly silent as the sound of stomping boots and slurred muttering drifted through Daryl's closed bedroom door. 

Merle's face went hard and resigned. "YN, you need to leave, ok? Out through the window, now." 

Your eyebrows widened in confusion. Three weeks you'd been hanging out with them every day, and now they were kicking you out? Through the window? 

"Too late for that," Daryl snapped, shoving your backpack under his bed with his foot while he grabbed your hand and hauled you toward the closet. He shoved you in while you were still trying to figure out what the hell was going on, and pulled the door most of the way shut. "Stay here, 'kay? Don't come out, no matter what, or it'll just make things worse." 

"Daryl! Merle! Why the fuck're these dishes still in my sink? Get your lazy asses out here, boys!" 

Your eyes widened as Merle shoved a hand through his hair with a sigh and Daryl flinched at the booming voice. What the fuck was going on? 

"Daryl-" you started, but Merle cut you off as he grabbed the door. 

"Shut up and stay there!" he hissed. Then they were both gone, Daryl's shoulder slumped but tight in a way you hadn't seen on your friend before. You frowned, seriously considering heading out there to find out just what the fuck was going on as slurred words and an answering tone too low to hear came filtering in. You had your hand around the closet door, starting to ease it back, when the booming voice came again. 

"Don't ya tell me what the fuck to do, boy!"

There was an answer you couldn't hear, the voice sounding tight and strained, and then an angry shout. Following that, you heard a crack and a sharp cry of pain; Daryl's voice lifting in a pissed-off shout. More cracks and yells came as you pressed your hand over your mouth and squeezed your eyes shut. 

Silence fell after probably five minutes, the great booming voice saying something you couldn't catch. There was another loaded, silent pause before there were slow, heavy footsteps outside Daryl's door. The door opened and Daryl and Merle came back in, Merle's face white and pinched everywhere that wasn't already red and beginning to bruise. He leaned on Daryl a little, your friend sporting a rapidly swelling eye and a pissed-off expression. He glanced toward the closet, holding up one hand to get you to stay where you were. He sat Merle down on his bed and ducked back out, leaving his door open. 

He was back moments later with a first aid kit, slamming his door and locking it. He moved toward Merle, tossing the kit on the bed. 

"Ya can come out now. He's passed out," Daryl called, voice guarded. 

You slid out of the closet and stared as Merle pulled his shirt over his head and turned his back toward Daryl. Daryl shot you a quick, hard glare as you stepped toward them slowly and gasped. Merle's back was covered in welts and one long, bleeding gash. Daryl turned away from your wide, shocked eyes with a sneer and started dabbing at the gash while Merle hissed. 

"Leave if ya want. Window's open," Daryl snapped at you. 

You stared at him wordlessly for a minute before walking over, rooting around in the first aid kit, and coming out with antibiotic cream. You held it out as Daryl turned, and he stared from it to you unblinking. 

"What the hell happened?" you asked, voice determinedly steady as he finally took it and went back to work on Merle. "Who did this?" 

Merle's voice was tight through his clenched jaw. "Will." 

"Will?" 

Daryl snorted. "Yeah. Will Dixon. Our daddy." 

 

 

You really started to freak out when they brought the zombies in. You'd been worried before that, sure, but now? Zombies? Goddamn!

Just as you were about to lunge to your feet and start kicking ass on your own, hands bound and gun on you or not, Merle pulled Daryl to his feet and the two of them went back to back in a circle of walkers. You had the feeling that if your eyes got any wider, they'd pop out and roll away. What in the actual fuck was going on? 

The assholes with the lead poles started closing the walkers in on the Dixon brothers, and God help their overprotective asses, both of them were looking at you right now instead of at what was happening right the fuck in front of them. You tried to use the power of your mind to tell them both to fucking pay attention to the dead guys, not to you, but you weren't sure you were at all successful. 

On the other hand, they both started punching zombies, so there was that. Not that it felt like much in the way of improvement, to be honest. 

 

 

Then came the shooting and the smoke, as your friendly neighborhood Deputy came riding to the rescue. At least you hoped that's what it was. 

Chaos was an old friend of yours, and you used it to your advantage just like Daryl and Merle. You rolled to the side and came to your feet in a smooth motion, shaking the hood and your hair back out of your face and taking a wild look around to assess the situation. They asshole who'd gagged you was busy shooting into the smoke, and people all around were doing the screaming and running routine that civilians tended to do when the shit hit the fan. 

You made it into the smoke, heading for the distant sound of your name being yelled and in the general direction of the exit. Then you ran smack into someone with a gun and a surprised expression. Your hands were zip tied behind your back and you were still gagged, but you were close enough to use a headbutt with brutal efficiency. The guy went down with a broken nose, but he also went down pulling the trigger. 

That brought two other assholes and you started kicking and ducking and weaving, but unarmed and tied up was no match for armed, free, and with numbers on their side. You were going to lose; it was only a matter of just how badly. 

Then the Governor grabbed you from behind and started laughing, and that seemed rather brutally like the end of that. 

Just as suddenly, a zombie came out of nowhere and the Governor let you go and shot the thing in the head. You slammed your head backward into the guy's face, adding another layer of brain injury to the day's tally, and made a run for it, straight into the fog. 

You'd rather have walkers any day than that creep. 

 

 

You saw a flashlight beam in the smoke, passing over twice in quick succession, and grinned around the gag still in place. There was the exit, and you'd have bet good money that Deputy Grimes had used a trick like that to communicate with Officer Walsh in similar situations. You beelined for the light and slammed right into someone in the fog. 

You went on the defensive immediately, not bothering to try to figure out who it was before using your head like the deadly weapon it was becoming. 

"Shit!" a familiar voice yelped, and you tossed your head to clear your eyes. 

Merle was scowling at you with a hand to his jaw. You smiled around the gag, trying to mumble something at him, but he grabbed your bound arm and started hustling you in the direction of the light. 

"Daryl!" he called, once, and out of the smoke he came. His eyes were wild until they landed on you and you mumble-shouted something at him as well. 

"Shut up for now, Jesus," he said with a roll of his eyes, shoving you forward with a hand on your back and toward where you could now make out Rick and Maggie behind a dumpster. 

"Daryl!" Rick yelled. 

"Here! Got her, let's go!" Daryl called back as he and Merle hustled you past.


	65. Here I Go Again On My Own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Merle bulled open a panel in the fence while Daryl had a rapid argument with Rick. Maggie cut the zip ties on your wrists and pulled the gag from your mouth. You shook your head, licked you lips, and grabbed Rick by the back of the shirt. 

"Deputy, come on!" you snapped, pulling him backward while you gestured Maggie through the hole Merle had made. 

You came through to find Merle clubbing a zombie's head in while another descended on him. 

"A little help would be nice!" he yelled, and a bolt swished past your ear and into the next walker's brain. There were a lot more of the fuckers coming, though. 

"Let's go!" you yelled at Rick and Maggie, and took off on Merle's heels as he hauled ass away. 

 

 

"Glenn!" Rick called as you approached. 

Glenn scrambled to his feet and came forward, relief all over his face. Until he saw Merle. 

"Now, we got a problem here. I need you to back up," Rick said, pulling out his full Officer Friendly voice. 

"What the hell is he doing here?" Glenn yelled even as Michonne pulled her sword and started forward. 

Daryl had his crossbow up and on her even as you stepped back and directly in front of Merle. Everyone was yelling- Michonne about Merle trying to kill her, Glenn about being beaten up, Rick trying to calm them all down. 

Your jaw tightened and the brewing headache got worse. You needed this family to all get along, but clearly that was going to be too much to ask, wasn't it? 

"He helped us get out of there," Daryl chimed in. 

"Yeah, right after he beat the shit out of you," Rick shot back, clearly not convinced that Merle needed to come back with you. 

Merle chose to open his mouth right then. "Hey, we all took our licks, man." 

"Shut up, Merle," you snapped at him as Daryl muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'jackass'. There was more arguing until Daryl turned and snapped at Merle about hanging out with the Governor. 

"Yeah, he is a real charmer I can tell you that. Been putting the wood to your girlfriend Andrea big time, baby," Merle told Michonne. 

"Ok. Merle? Shut the ever-loving fuck up. Are you high right now?" you snapped at him, turning and getting in his space. "Please, for the love of God, tell me you're high right now. Because otherwise, I am going to have to kick your ass into next week for being the massive dick you're currently being." 

Silence had fallen over the group and you had that twitchy feeling between your shoulders like they were staring at you. Merle looked at you and there was a hardness to his eyes that you hadn't even seen when he'd come back from war. Something had happened to him. 

"Baby girl, you left me on a rooftop in Atlanta. Don't you talk to me like we're friends no more, darlin'." 

You snorted, crossing your arms. "Please, jackass. We're not friends. We're family. And I didn't leave you there." 

"Can we get back to Andrea?" Glenn interrupted as Merle opened his mouth. "She's in Woodbury?" 

"Yeah, right next to the Governor," Daryl scoffed. 

"Do you know Andrea?" Rick snapped at Michonne. She didn't answer. 

Merle did. "Yeah, they spent all winter cozied up in the forest." 

"God, Merle," you muttered, but he ignored you and continued. 

"She had herself two pet walkers. No arms, cut off the jaws, kept 'em in chains. We snagged 'em out of the woods. Andrea was close to dyin'." 

"Is that why she'd with him?" Maggie asked, and you caught the tone. You looked at Merle, backing him up into the tree by stepping into his space. 

"Hey, Merle? Regardless of whether or not you and I are copacetic, we need to have a little talk about your boss real soon. You're wearing that vest, so you better have been following the club's fucking rules. There's one in particular we need to have us a chat about, brother," you told him in a low, tightly controlled voice. 

He was backed as far from you as he could get, pressed to the tree and hands to the sides in either a show of surrender or a show of revulsion. His eyes flicked from yours to Maggie and something shifted in them. You read the guilt like an open book, because this was Merle. Your Merle. 

"That's what I thought," you whispered. "Merle, what the fuck are you doing? That asshole? Seriously? And why- why in the hell are you acting like such a massive fucking dick?" 

"Ya actin' like Will," Daryl put in, the jab you were planning to go for next. 

Merle didn't do anything but sneer. "I ain't actin' like Will, baby brother. I'm acting like Merle." 

"No," you said sadly, stepping away with a shake of your head. "You aren't." 

 

 

"It won't work," Rick insisted to you and Daryl. 

Daryl shrugged. "It's gotta." 

"It'll stir things up," Rick argued. 

"Look, the Governor is probably on the way to the prison right now," you said. "Merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle." 

Maggie and Glenn stood with you. Michonne and Merle were within sight and far enough from each other to maybe not kill each other right at that exact moment. But you had an eye on them. 

"I'm not having him at the prison," Maggie said bluntly. 

"Do you really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Carol or Beth?" Glenn said almost at the same time. 

"He ain't a rapist," Daryl shot back, and you turned to both of them, fully pissed off. 

"Maggie, I get it. I'm not blind. Something happened," you told her with a glance at the shirt she wore. She shifted uncomfortably and looked away. "But Merle? He and Daryl literally killed my foster dad. And Merle's Nameless. There are rules against that, Maggie. Very, very strict rules. He didn't know about it."

"There's no way Merle's going to live there, not without putting everyone at each other's throats," Rick said bluntly. 

Your heart stopped. You knew that look on Rick's face, and it was all over. Merle was out. 

"You're gonna cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?" Daryl snapped in tones of deep disgust. 

"She's not coming back either," Rick snarled. 

Maggie shook her head. "She's not in a state to be on her own." 

"She did bring you guys to us," Glenn added. 

"And then ditched us," Rick shot back. 

"At least let my dad stitch her up?" Maggie asked wearily. 

"She's too unpredictable," Rick insisted. 

"That's right, we don't know who she is," Daryl agreed with him. "But Merle- Merle's blood." 

"No, Merle's your blood," Glenn snapped. "My blood, my family, is standing right here, and waiting for us back at the prison." 

"You're a part of that family," Rick agreed, looking at both of you. "But he's not. He's not." 

You shook your head, lips pressed together. You knew the verdict already, but you weren't walking away from Merle. You could only hope Daryl agreed with you or Rick changed his mind. 

"Y'all don't know," you said softly. "You don't know him like we do. Don't do this, deputy. Please." 

Rick's expression didn't change, and you sighed. 

"Fine," Daryl scoffed. "We'll fend for ourselves." 

Thank God, you thought. Thank God. He wasn't going to make you chose between him and Merle.

"No, Daryl-" Rick started, doing the intense-friendly thing, Glenn started to say that wasn't what he meant, Maggie's eyes got huge. 

"No him, no me," Daryl said bluntly. You slid your hand in his. 

"No him, no us," you corrected. "Rick, you were looking for your family in King County. You let me come because I was looking for mine, too. They're it. I'm not going back without both of them." 

The two of you stared walking away, your hand tight in Daryl's, as Maggie and Glenn yelled after you not to do it. You ignored them, but when Rick jogged to you and got in your path, your eyes filled. 

"There's got to be another way," Rick said seriously. 

"Don't ask me to leave him, Rick. I did that twice," you warned him, voice thick. Daryl nodded his agreement, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you started walking toward the back of the car. Rick came with you, jaw tight and face urgent. 

"We started something last night. You realize that, huh?" he asked, and you shot him a look as Daryl popped the trunk and started pulling out what supplies he thought you'd need. 

"No him, no me. That's all I can say," Daryl said. "Take care of yourself. Take care of lil ass-kicker. Carl. He's one tough kid." Daryl swung a pack on his back as you gave Rick another long look. 

"Damn it, deputy," you whispered as Daryl ran a hand over your back and headed into the woods toward Merle. "Don't make us do this. Please." 

"He can't come," Rick replied, jaw tight. 

You nodded, dropping your head and sniffing back the tears. "Tell Walsh I said to remember the Rickocracy works and to keep his head on straight. Don't kill each other. Don't fight over the baby. She'll need all the love she can get, so let both of you love her, ok? And- just- be safe, Deputy Grimes. You're one of the few good people in the world. Hold on to that." 

You sniffed and tossed your arms around him in a quick hug. He didn't have time to hug you back before you let go and jogged to where Daryl and Merle were waiting in the trees. 

"Come on, you asshole," you snapped at Merle's smirking face. "This is your fault, ok?"


	66. Waiting On A Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past threatened rape/non con  
> mentions of past sexual assault  
> drugs and drug use

"Well, how about this, baby dolls. Three of us, together again. Wanna see what kinda trouble we can find?" Merle drawled from behind you and Daryl as you wandered somewhat aimlessly through the trees. 

"Shut up," the two of you snapped in unison. 

He chuckled as Daryl's fingers brushed the back of your hand and you shot Daryl a grateful look. "Well, hell, little brother. You get ya head outta ya ass and finally talk to that girl?"

Something in his tone pissed you the fuck off. It wasn't like he was asking because he gave a shit about you, not like your Merle. He was asking to get a rise out of you- either one of you, but it felt directed at Daryl. You waited in silence for a few more steps, then whirled. 

You had Merle by the vest and put against a nearby tree in three moves. He didn't see it coming, and he held his hands- or rather one hand and one metal stump- up in a gesture of peace. You set your forearm across his throat and leaned into him, looking in his eyes intensely. 

"What the hell ya doin', baby girl?" he asked after a moment. 

You kept looking him over, your eyes narrowing. Then you scoffed and started patting him down. "I'm looking for your stash now, asshole. There's no way you're this much of a dickwad without some personality-altering shit on you." 

He chuckled as you checked the inner pocket of his vest, where Rick had found his shit on the rooftop in Atlanta. "What the hell ya talkin' about? This is just me bein' my regular charmin' self. You just done left me on a rooftop and forgot who I was." 

"Man, shut up. Just shut up. We came back for ya!" Daryl yelled. "We came back! All ya had to do was wait!" 

"Them biters was gonna get me!" 

"T Dog chained the door!" you snapped, exasperated. "It was still chained when we got there. Literally nothing was going to get you! Jesus fucking Christ, Merle!" 

"You know what I think's funny, girlie? You and Sheriff Rick are so damn tight now- a pig bastard and a damn officer of the Nameless. Saw ya hug on him before ya left. You runnin' with cops and civilians, but ya left one of ya own up there on that roof," Merle spoke with a glare. 

"For shit's sake," you muttered. "Yes, yes I am running with cops and civilians. The deputy has saved my criminal ass more than once. Saved Daryl's ass too. So did Shane. Shit, Shane and I even fucked once. Want to crawl up my butt about that, too? Say I'm not Nameless material anymore? Fuckin' look at you, asshole! Tell me why Maggie was wearing Glenn's shirt." 

Silence dropped. Merle's eyes slid from yours and something moved behind his pissed-off face. "I didn't know nothin' about that. Not till he drug her in there." 

Daryl reached for your hand when you stretched it out blindly toward him and you locked your fingers around his. You'd known, of course you'd known, but having it confirmed sent you back to the terrified sixteen year old with someone's hands all over you. The rage you'd felt for yourself was nothing in comparison to the rage you felt on Maggie's behalf. She was too damn nice a person to have to deal with that kind of trauma.

"Merle. What the hell happened?" you asked, suddenly tired of it all. 

Tired of fighting everyone. Tired of handling Merle.

"I cut off my hand when ya friends left me on a rooftop, girlie. That's what happened," he snarled, but it was lacking heat as he looked down into your eyes. 

"Well," you muttered, looking away. "At least this time it was my friends who left you, not me. I wasn't there, asshole. I was in a car with the siren wailing and that guy you beat the shit out of driving, pulling the herd of walkers away to try to save your high as a kite ass." 

Daryl tugged on your hand and pulled you into him for a minute. You leaned into him as he wrapped his arm around your waist, glad for the comfort. You'd missed Merle so much, you thought as you looked at him now, sadly. You'd missed him so much, and here he was, but it wasn't really him. 

He was watching the two of you, though, his eyes lingering on Daryl's fingers gripping your hip right above your devil tattoo. You sighed and scrubbed at your face, hoping to find the words to reach the man you knew. You refused to believe he wasn't still in there- especially when Daryl pressed a kiss to your hair and Merle's lips moved upward into a smile of their own accord.

After a minute, you spoke again, hoping the love you felt for him came through. "You saved my life by giving me a place to run to, Merle. For years. You really think I'd abandon you? I was in lockup when this shit started. I spent three months trying to figure out how to get my ass back to Atlanta and find you two. I rode double on a goddamn horse to get there, Merle." 

Both Dixon boys burst out laughing at that, and your heart shattered. The sound of them laughing together, in the green warmth of the trees, did you in. All of your favorite had that sound somewhere in the background. Tears started falling and you slid from Daryl's arms back toward Merle. You needed him, desperately, to tell you he forgave you for leaving him. To be your friend again instead of your job. 

When he saw your face, the laugh cut off and pure pain slashed through his eyes. He took a half step toward you, reaching out a hand, before he caught himself. You grabbed his hand in yours without thinking.

"I'm so tired, Merle. I'm tired of managing you from one high to the next. Please. I just want my friend back. The boy who taught me all about bikes and how to throw a punch and gave me hope I'd have a better future than rotting away in that trailer." 

Merle's eyes were swimming too. He shook his head, pulling his hand from yours and angrily wiping it over his eyes. "Damn it, baby girl," he whispered. "Get outta here with that shit." 

"Not likely, asshole. You've never been able to get rid of me when you needed me before; why would I let you now?" 

He blinked hard, eyes suspiciously bright. "Shit's done happened, baby girl. I ain't no good guy." 

Daryl snorted behind you, his hand gentle on the back of your neck as he looked at his brother with fond exasperation. "When you ever been a good guy, man?" 

"Turns out none of us are good guys," you added. "I just found out a few months ago that Daryl here killed my foster dad. Think that's something I should have fucking known awhile ago?" 

Merle's scowl was suddenly and instantly the one you remembered from when you were kids, his big brother knows best face. You found yourself smiling while he started going off on Daryl about telling you things you didn't need to know. You stepped forward again, went on your toes, and kissed Merle's cheek while he was mid-tirade. 

He cut off abruptly, mid-word, and drew in a sharp breath when you rested your cheek on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around him. After a moment of silence, his arms came around you as well and he turned his face into your hair. 

"Jesus, baby girl," he whispered, voice cracking, and you held on tighter. 

"We done now, asshole?" you muttered back, and he chuckled. 

 

 

"We still need to talk about the Governor," you told them both seriously. You leaned into Daryl's chest and he was propped on a tree, one arm wrapped loosely around you and his crossbow in his other hand. Merle had made a rabbit trap and you'd been sitting for hours waiting on something to run across your path. 

"We ain't gotta talk shit about that bastard, girlie," Merle said. "He saved my sweet bacon near a year back. I worked for 'im and looked for you two. Now I found you and I don't work for him anymore." 

"Well, that summary leaves a lot to be desired," you told him with an eyebrow raised. 

Daryl's semi-amused huff of air tickled on your neck. "And you ain't found shit, man. We found you." 

Merle shot a grin and his middle finger Daryl's way. You rolled your eyes at both of them, but you were smiling. You'd forgotten just how much petty bickering the two of them did when they were together. 

"Leaving aside who located who in this apocalyptic shithole, can we focus, please? Do we have a damn plan?" 

"Yeah," Daryl said. "We go find us a river, get us some fuckin' fish, and take 'em back to the prison. They got food, shelter, and a fuckin' pot to piss in." 

"I cain't go there, little brother," Merle said softly. "They won't let me in." 

"They'll have to," Daryl said, that stubborn edge to his voice. "Everyone'll get used to each other." 

"I almost killed the bitch with the sword. Beat the shit outta the Chinese kid," Merle objected. 

"He's Korean," Daryl snapped, annoyed. 

You sighed and patted Daryl's arm. "Her name's Michonne, Merle. And his name is Glenn. That'll be a problem, sure. But hey, they accepted me," you said with a shrug. 

"Yeah, but baby girl, you're the best of the three of us. Got the cleanest hands, darlin'," Merle told you with a soft smile. 

You snorted. "Not anymore." 

"What the hell's that mean?" 

You waved him away. "That means shit happens, Merle. Men get fed to walkers so little boys can live. Men get shot in bars and in the woods when they try to hurt your group. Little girls who turn into zombies get put down. Women who need C sections die with your hands in their stomach trying to save the baby." 

"Shit, girlie," Merle whispered, staring at you. Daryl pressed a kiss to your neck and rubbed his fingers against your side. 

You shrugged, forcing a casualness you didn't feel. "Life, man. Can we please go home, boys? Rick and Shane have probably started trying to kill each other again without me there." 

Daryl rose with a snort, grabbing your hand and hauling you to your feet. "Come on, baby. We're goin'. Merle, you comin', jackass?" 

Merle hesitated, and you held your other hand out to him. "Come on, brother. We'll figure it out. You stay sober, I kick your ass a few times when you get out of line, and everyone will be friends." 

 

 

"That cloud looks like a dick," you declared solemnly. 

Daryl jerked, his leg beneath your head twitching as he looked down at you. His eyes were surprised and there was a faint redness to his cheeks. You wondered idly if he was blushing or just as high as you were. Merle laughed raucously and you lifted your head from Daryl's lap just enough to grin at him. 

"Wanna ask how ya know what a dick looks like, baby girl, but I ain't real sure I wanna know the answer," Merle said with a wink. 

You flopped back down, laughing, as Daryl muttered that he definitely didn't want to know. 

"Please," you said dryly, staring at the clouds as you twirled an unlit cigarette between your fingers. "I'm almost sixteen. Besides, Dixon, you're one to talk."

"Oh! Just what does that mean, little brother?"

Daryl glared down at you. "Thanks a lot," he muttered, his fingers tugging on your hair in protest. 

"You're welcome," you told him pleasantly. 

He rolled his eyes. "Bitch." 

"Asshole." 

He went back to threading his fingers through your hair as you grinned at each other.

"Will either of you two love birds tell me just what the hell we're talkin' about?" Merle demanded, dissolving into laughter as he spoke. You cracked up at his laugh, and Daryl snorted and rolled his eyes. Both of you ignored the 'love birds' comment. 

"Daryl's been gettin' it on with Melissa Everette," you told Merle when you got your breath back. 

"Have not!" Daryl protested. "Never went that far, and she dumped me anyways. Besides, I know about Scott. So just shut up, would ya." 

You shrugged, grinning at him. "I'm not ashamed of Scott. No matter what he says, he did not get a home run." 

"How many bases did he get?" Merle asked, his voice casually curious. 

You snorted and waved him off. "Aw, shut up. He's nobody. Tell me about Atlanta, Merle. Is it an amazing as it sounds? Tell me about the bikes!" 

Daryl's fingers combed through the tangles in your hair steadily as you watched the clouds. Merle's animated voice filled your ears, telling stories about places in Atlanta, bikes he'd worked on, shit he'd done already for the club up there. The Nameless. 

"The Nameless," you whispered when Merle's latest story came to an end. "I can't wait. I'll kick ass as a biker bitch." 

Daryl snorted. "Ya already kick ass, baby." 

"Damn straight. Been keeping you two in line for years already," you said with a grin at him, leaning unconsciously into his hand as he smoothed your hair back from your face. 

Merle's laugh filled the air and you grinned. "Ya sure have, darlin'. Ya sure have." 

 

 

They bickered over literally everything as you walked. It took about five minutes before you were ready to drown both of them in the next body of water you found, no matter that it was called. 

"Oh for fuck's sake. Will both of you please, for the love of all that's holy, shut the hell up for two damn minutes?" you finally hissed, turning around and glaring at them both with your hands on your hips. 

Daryl and Merle paused in their argument about the proper way to care for the leather seat on the Triumph- they were both fucking wrong, not that you were about to stick your head into that mess- and turned identical scowls your way. Your lips twitched as you tried to keep in the smile, but you couldn't. 

They were both there. Your boys were here with you, traipsing through the woods like you were kids again. 

Daryl gave you that look, all barely there smirk and confident eyes, and you gave up on looking stern. You were about to speak again when their faces changed to wide eyes. Daryl whipped up his crossbow and fired even as you tossed yourself to the side and hit the ground with an oof. 

You rolled and popped back up to your feet to glare at the dead asshole with a bolt sticking through his eye. 

"You see? That's what happens when you two bicker like an old married couple," you informed both of them, planting your foot on the thing's skull and yanking out the arrow. You handed it, brains stuck to the point, to Daryl as he came up beside you. 

"Yeah, yeah. Ya aight?" he muttered. He shook the brains off the bolt and drew the crossbow with a grimace, sticking the bloody arrow right back on the bow. 

"Of course she's aight, little brother. Girl's taken a damn sight more falls than that!" Merle declared, and you rolled your eyes upward in another plea for patience as Daryl started bitching at Merle for bitching about everything. 

Jesus, someone remind you again why you put up with this shit? 

"Hey, c'mon, baby!" Daryl called back to you. "Keep the hell up!" 

You were going to kill them both.


	67. Communication Breakdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

The bickering faded and some real talk started happening. You were sweating under your leather jacket, already tired and annoyed at all the walking. You were in the lead, blazing the trail despite the fact that they'd spent what felt like an eternity ribbing you on your decreased woodsmanship.

"This is why I ride a goddamn motorcycle," you muttered, swiping sweat off your face. "Look, Merle, we need to talk about the fucking Governor. What's he likely to do next? Is he going to come fuck shit up or what?" 

Merle gave you a grim look as he shoved a branch out of the way and you ducked under it. "Darlin', he's probably already on his way. Listen, that man is one scary bastard. He gives a good gentle leader routine, but he's cold as hell. Gunned down a whole damn group of servicemen on his say so just a few days ago." 

"Jesus, why?" you asked, giving him a wide-eyed look. 

Merle glanced away from you and shrugged, uncomfortable. "'Cause I ain't got nowhere else to go. He was helpin' me look for the two of ya. He saved my ass, too. Helped patch me up. I damn near bled out before his people found me." 

Your jaw tightened in a fresh wave of anger at the group for leaving him on the roof. Then you remembered T Dog had died in all the insanity with Lori and the walkers, and the anger faded. Shit happened, you reminded yourself. T had made up for that moment's error that led to the key being dropped. 

"What kinda fire and brimstone he gonna bring down on us?" Daryl asked. 

Merle shrugged. "He'll bring people, guns, some story he's spun 'em about how their cause is just and ours ain't. They'll follow him, cause that's what scared people do." 

"Who the hell is he?" It'd been bothering you for awhile. Was he a leader before all this, or had he snatched at the opportunity to be in charge?

Merle made a face. "Damn if I know, girlie. He's mighty closed-lipped about the past. Ain't like we was bosom buddies or nothin'." 

"Fair enough," you muttered, thinking. Then you flashed Merle a sly grin. "So you weren't sitting around, braiding each other's hair?" 

His laugh boomed out and your smile grew. "No sirree, baby girl, we was not. He mighta braided ol' Andrea's hair a few times, though. That girl wasted no time cozyin' up to him." 

"Alright, watch your mouth, Merle," you muttered. "Leave the sexism at the door." 

He snorted. "Whatever ya say, sugar tits." 

"The fuck you call her?" Daryl asked, turning to the two of you with wide eyes. 

You smothered another laugh and gave Merle a glare. "What'd I tell you about that? Don't make me beat your ass." 

Daryl's face was still confused as you and Merle grinned at each other, but he didn't ask. He gave a shake of his head and kept walking. "Close now, idiots. Keep it down here on out, aight?" 

 

 

Gunshots shattered the silence a few minutes later. The three of you slammed behind trees and looked at each other as they rang out, faces going grim. 

"Home?" you mouthed to Daryl, and he nodded. The three of you eased glances around the trees, and when nothing jumped out at you right away, you huddled up together as more shooting filled the air. 

"Gonna be walkers everywhere," Daryl said grimly. 

You nodded. "People too. Plan?" 

"Shit, baby girl. Plan is, kill 'em so they don't kill us," Merle grunted. 

You shrugged. "Good enough." 

 

 

You moved rapidly through the trees now, putting down zombies shambling toward the source of the noise as you went. There was blood splattered liberally over the three of you before you even got close to the prison. 

The gunfire reached a peak and then faded off as the roar of an engine came bouncing through the trees. The crash echoed as you stabbed another dead guy and kept running, and the gunfire was down to potshots. You knew the sound of a battle winding down, but what you didn't know was why. 

The three of you came bursting out of the trees and you scanned rapidly. Walkers were fucking everywhere- in the field, spilling from a van you didn't recognize; coming out of the trees from all sides. Michonne ran through the mess with her sword swinging as Hershel hopped on one crutch with a gun in his hand in a heart-stopping display of badassery you hadn't expected from the old man. Someone was driving a pickup erratically through the field of walkers while others picked off walkers from the inner gate line.

And outside the fences, Deputy Grimes was holding back three dead asshole, his back on the fence, and primal screaming. 

"Daryl!" you called, and he fired as you ran, nailing one of the walkers Rick was holding back. 

Merle followed you into the fray, the two of you going hand to hand as Rick stared wildly for a few seconds. Then he started using his Python to wack the shit out of zombie brains. Daryl hung just back from the action so he could shoot, dropping one that tried to get a grip on your shoulder even as you held another at arm's length and Merle took it down with a big-ass piece of pipe you could have sworn he most definitely did not have. 

Then it was over, Rick rising from bashing a zombie's head in and glancing at you and Daryl. He nodded briefly at you both, and you nodded. Daryl and Merle converged on you, Daryl's hand reaching for yours. You gave his fingers a quick squeeze, eyeing both of them. 

"We ok?" you muttered. 

"All good, baby girl," Merle answered and Daryl nodded. 

 

 

You fought your way through the walkers filling the yard, the four of you back to back with you bringing up the rear as usual. You had plenty of time to eye the demolished gates and grumble about the state of the yard. 

"I mean," you grunted as you shot down a particularly curious fucker in the tattered remains of a suit and tie, "he's just being petty, damn it." 

"Seriously, girlie? Ya bitchin' about his methods right now?" Merle muttered, and Rick cracked up. 

He actually burst out laughing. "She likes to bitch at strange times." 

"Always has," Daryl agreed fondly as you reached the gate.

You sighed as you backed through it and Shane pulled it closed. "Yeah, yeah. Just pick on me for awhile why don't you all. Shit." 

Rick put a hand on your shoulder as Carl came flying around the corner and tossed his arms around you in an unexpected hug. You staggered a little as the kid slammed into you and you patted his back awkwardly. 

"Hey, kid. What's up?" you muttered, giving Rick a confused look. Rick shrugged. Carl let go of you just as suddenly as he'd attacked you, repeating the process with Daryl. 

Daryl looked just as bemused as you had. 

Rick started issuing orders to the others, checking on Hershel, Glenn, and Michonne especially before heading toward C block and tossing over his shoulder for everyone to get inside, and you'd put a guard in the tower after a quick meeting. Daryl walked with Merle, muttering to him in a low voice about keeping his damn mouth shut and letting you guys do the talking, but you hung back for a minute. 

Shane's back was to you as he stared out over the field, shoulders and jaw tight with anger. 

"Hey, Officer," you said casually. "You coming inside?" 

Daryl glanced back at the doorway and saw you still there, and you waved him on when Shane didn't turn or respond. Daryl's face was expressionless as he looked Shane over for a minute, but he nodded and ducked inside. 

You sighed and turned to stare at the walkers as well, hooking your fingers through the chain link of the fence at Shane's side. He said nothing, his knuckles white where he gripped that monster shotgun of his. 

"What's wrong, Walsh?" you asked when the lingering silence was too much. 

Shane scoffed, shaking his head as he glared. "What's wrong? I don't know, Nameless. You convinced me to stay behind; you go to rescue our people. Rick comes back three people short and says you deserted us for that piece of shit douchebag, even after he beat the holy hell out of Glenn." 

You glared. "He's a douchebag, sure. But he's not a piece of shit, Walsh." 

Shane hot you an incredulous look. "That really all you're gonna say?" 

"What the hell is your problem, Officer?" you snapped, shoving away from the fence and crossing your arms. "It's Merle. And Daryl. My brother and my boyfriend. What the hell was I supposed to do?" 

"I don't know. Come back until you could change Rick's mind. Something!" Shane snapped back, gesturing wildly with the shotgun in one hand. 

"And do what with Merle?" you questioned. "Tell me just what I was supposed to do there, please." 

"I don't know! Not abandon us?" He yelled. He rubbed a hand over his head, looking away from you with his jaw clenching. "I don't know, Nameless. There had to be another way. Maybe this shit would have gone differently if you'd been here, watching our backs like you say is your job. Maybe Axel would still be alive." 

"And maybe Rick would be dead from a goddamn walker bite outside those gates!" you exploded. "He was seconds from being fucking zombie chow and we saved his moronic ass. What the hell was he doing out there anyway?" 

Shane's jaw got tighter and he set the shotgun down to lean against the fence. He rubbed a hand through his hair again, then rested both hands on his hips as he glared out at the zombies. "I don't know. Carl found people in the prison-" 

"What?" 

"Shut up and listen. Carl found people in the prison and then Rick went batshit when he got back with Maggie and Glenn, started waving a gun at them all and screaming about Lori not being there. He's been outside the whole damn time since, and I've been trying to keep Glenn from sneaking back and assassinating the goddamn Governor and getting this place fixed. Boiler block's full of walkers again because of fire damage on the front end of the prison."

"Motherfucker," you muttered. "Where'd the people go?" 

"Hell if I know. We needed you here, girl. Why the fuck did you run off with them?" Shane asked quietly. "I need- we need you here." 

You gave him an odd look. "What the hell's that supposed to mean, Officer Walsh?" 

He looked away, shaking his head and chewing on the inside of his lip. He looked like he was arguing with himself, shifting uncomfortably before letting out a sigh. "YN, I-" 

"YN! Shane! C'mon, get ya asses in here. Rick wants to have a conversation!" Daryl's voice cut him off, impatient and annoyed. You waved a hand in acknowledgement, and shrugged at Shane. 

"Better head in, Walsh. Merle's probably about to start a fight without me around to keep him straight," you muttered as you started toward Daryl, more than a little grateful for the interruption. 

You weren't really sure you wanted him to finish whatever he'd been about to say.


	68. We're Breaking Out of Brokenpromiseland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> smuttiness

"We're not leaving," Rick declared as he loaded a gun. 

You chuckled. "Dramatic much, Deputy? Is the gun really necessary?" 

He ignored you, but Merle chuckled. Shane glared at all three of you. You'd followed Daryl inside, hugged Maggie, Carol, and Beth, and promptly dropped down onto your mattress in the common area. Daryl had flopped down beside you and you'd curled under his arm with a sigh. 

"We can't stay here," Hershel disagreed, and the chorus of dissent chimed in from all around. Maggie, Beth, and Carol were all in agreement with Hershel that you should run. You thought that was a truly terrible idea, between the Governor and the newborn and the old man missing half a leg. 

"If Rick says we're not running, we're not running," Glenn spoke up firmly. 

"No, better to live like rats," Merle put in distinctly unhelpfully. He'd been locked in the outer area, separate from your living spaces. 

You closed your eyes with your head on Daryl's shoulder. It'd been several long as hell days, and you were way too tired for this shit. "Merle, be helpful or shut up, ok? Rick, is locking him out there really necessary? I mean, come on. He helped save your asses." 

"Only because of you," Rick snapped at you. "He stays out there." 

"Michonne's inside. You suddenly trust her now?" you asked, annoyed. "What difference does it make why he's on your side? Shit, even if he's only on mine and Daryl's side-" 

"I am," Merle muttered. 

"I said shut up." You pointed at him without opening your eyes. "Even if he's only on mine and Daryl's side, we're on your side. Right, Dixon?" 

"Mmhhhmm," Daryl said. He sounded as tired as you felt. 

Shane scoffed. "Yeah? You left." 

"We came back," you countered, hauling your eyes open with difficulty. "Shit. Can we not?" 

"The Governor's probably got watchers on every road out of this place by now," Merle added grimly. "We ain't goin' nowhere." 

"Fuck," you muttered. "Well, there's that." 

Daryl snorted, his hand curling on the back of your neck again. "We ain't scared of that prick." 

"Speak for yourself, Dixon," you muttered. 

At the same time, Merle chimed in. "You should be. That truck through the fence thing, that's just him ringing the doorbell. We might have some thick walls to hide behind, but he's got the guns and the numbers. And if he takes the high ground around this place? Shoot. He could just starve us out if he wanted to." 

You groaned. "Shit, Merle. You're just full of good news today, aren't you?" 

"Sorry, baby girl. Just the damn truth." 

"And how do you know that?" Shane's voice was belligerent, and you glared across at him. 

"Hey," you muttered. Daryl's fingers dug into the base of your neck, kneading at the muscles there in a silent plea for you to calm down. You didn't. "Seriously, Walsh, I get that you're fucking pissed at me for leaving, but can you not?" 

Shane scoffed and turned to Rick. "We ain't leavin', brother, but we need a plan. What have you got?" 

"I said we should leave. Now Axel's dead. We can't just sit here," Hershel declared, the most pissed off you'd ever heard him sound. 

Then Rick headed toward the door without answering either him or Shane. Hershel rose, glaring at the back of Rick's head, and shouted for him to get back here.   
You let out a low whistle, impressed with the old man. Merle met your eyes through the gate, his own eyebrows up. Rick had stopped, his back to the room, and the old man crutched his way to Rick. You tensed as Hershel laid into him, ready to jump to the deputy's defense. Hallucinating motherfucker had earned the right to lose his mind a little if he needed to. He'd yet to fail any of you, that's for sure.

"You're slipping, Rick. We've all seen it. We understand why. But now is not the time. You once said this isn't a democracy. Now you have to own up to that. I put my family's life in your hands!" 

Rick turned slowly, giving the old man such a grim look that Shane shoved off the wall and you pushed away from where you'd been leaning on Daryl. Now you weren't sure whose aid you were planning to come to.

Hershel continued, voice hard. "Get your head clear and do something." 

"I am," Rick growled, and slammed out the door. 

 

 

"Do I follow him?" you asked the silent room. 

Shane scoffed, shaking his head. "Naw. Give him some time. Besides, you head out there, you might just leave." 

"What the hell's your problem?" Daryl yelled. 

"Stop it!" 

Your head whipped around as the voice cut through the fight brewing between Daryl and Shane. Sweet little Beth stood at the top of the stairs, eyes terrified. 

"Just stop it! Yes, they left, but they came back. Maggie, Glenn, I know you're hurt, but Merle's family. Maybe not yours, but he's theirs. Is there anything you wouldn't do for your family?" She continued, and you would have cheered her on if you weren't afraid it would turn her wrath on you. 

"Can we all please just try to get along? We need each other. All of us. So just- everybody just go to bed!" She finished, waving her hands in annoyance. "Judith's gonna be up in a few hours, and YN will be awake again soon too anyway." She spun on her heel and stalked into the cell she shared with Hershel, dropping the curtain behind her. 

It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. Finally you started laughing. Daryl joined you after a minute, but the others just stared. You shrugged. 

"I mean, the girl's not wrong. We're exhausted. We'll figure shit out in the morning, right?" 

"Whatever," Shane muttered. "I'll be on watch." 

 

 

Daryl grabbed your hand and pulled you toward one of the cells after locking Merle inside one of his own. You resisted, eyeing the bars with a shiver. Lockup wasn't something you wanted to experience ever again. 

"Settle down, would ya? Just didn't want to be out there in the fuckin' open," Daryl muttered to you as he dropped the crossbow by the head of the bunk. He sat and started prying his boots off, and you developed a sudden and intense case of the awkward. 

You fidgeted for a minute before unbuckling your holster, dropping it beside his bow and sliding off your jacket. You hesitated again, gripping it tightly and not looking at Daryl. 

He touched your arm gently, with just his fingertips, and took the jacket from your hands. You turned a little as he tossed it to the upper bunk and ran his fingers over your cheek. 

"What ya so nervous about, baby?" he whispered. "Ain't like we never shared a damn bed before." 

You laughed faintly, unable to resist the slight smile. No, the two of you had never curled up together on a tiny mattress in Daryl's trailer or sprawled over your queen-sized, room-filling bed in Atlanta together. Nope, not once.

"That's better," he whispered again, and pulled you toward him with a hand on the back of your neck. "C'mon. Ain't like we about to throw down, baby, not that you've ever been shy about that either. You're barely on ya feet." 

"Me? What about you, jackass? You've had just as little sleep as I have," you muttered into his neck, arms sliding around him as he chuckled. 

He was drawing patterns on your back absently as he laughed a little. "Fair 'nough. Shit, baby. We found Merle." 

You lifted your head from his neck and looked at his disbelieving expression. "You know what, Dixon? I really don't want to talk about Merle right now." 

"Yeah?" he asked. 

"Yeah," you said firmly. You sat down with a huff, his amused eyes on you as you started pulling off your boots. He dropped down beside you as you chucked them into a corner. "Don't get me wrong. I'm so glad we've got him and he's safe and all that shit, and I've missed the fuck out of him. But- shit, Dixon. We haven't had a chance to slow down since-" 

You cut off with a blush and a vague gesture between the two of you, and Daryl snorted a laugh at you. You scowled at him, and he ignored that and leaned in and kissed you. 

Well, shit. You couldn't scowl while he was doing that. 

After a bit, he pulled away and laid back. "Come here," he said, holding out an arm. 

You smiled and curled up against his side, between him and the wall of the cell. Your head on his chest, you looked at the bunk above you as his hand came to rest on your side. His fingers dug in once, then settled lightly.

"Ain't much bigger'n my bed back home," Daryl muttered quietly, shifting his head a little. He had his other arm up and his head resting on it. "Will's trailer, I mean. Not Atlanta. Remember the first time ya slept in my bed?" 

You laughed. "Clearly? No, not really. I mean, I know I hadn't been there long. We were still kids. Don't tell me you remember that specifically?" 

"Well," he said, and you tipped your head back to stare at his jaw in disbelief. He brought his hand down to grip yours, shifting a little until he could look at you, eyes gleaming. "I mean, ain't every day some girl comes to ya window in the middle of the night and then takes over ya damn bed." 

You rolled your eyes at him. "Please. It damn near was every day." 

"I know," he said with a laugh. "Shit. Hated what drove ya over to me all the time, but hell if I didn't look forward to the minute you slid in my bed, girl." 

"Really?" you whispered. His fingers moved against your ribs and you sighed. "Might have come a few nights when I didn't really think I needed to. Just 'cause I always felt better over there. Shit, I'd sneak into your room even on nights you were gone." 

"Found ya asleep in my bed once," Daryl whispered now. "Shit, girl, it wasn't long before we left. It was two in the damn afternoon, I think. Came lookin' for ya 'cause I hadn't seen ya since first period. Skipped a test cause I was worried. Get home, come in my room all worried and pissed off, and there ya were. Looked so damn fragile, like if I touched ya, you'd break. Ain't like that when you're awake." 

You scoffed. "I've never looked fragile in my life, asshole. I resent that."

"Shut up," he said mildly, bringing your joined hands to his lips. "Couldn't help myself. I wanted ya so fuckin' bad, girl. I kissed ya. Didn't know if I was hoping you would wake up or prayin' ya wouldn't. Either way, I had to. Hope ya don't mind." 

"Shit," you said, deadpan. "Well, now we can't be friends." 

He laughed. "God, you're a bitch sometimes." 

"Only sometimes?"

"Yeah. Only sometimes." 

You shifted a little in his arms, yawning. "Well, sometimes is ok then. We're trading confessions, I should admit to maybe sneaking a peak in the woods one day." 

"The fuck?" he asked, fingers on your side stilling. 

You laughed without opening your eyes. "You'd been dressing a kill or some shit. Or hell, you just wanted an outdoor bath. You didn't know I was in the woods. I noticed you were in the river, hung back for a few minutes. Got a good look," you teased. 

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he muttered. "When the hell was this?" 

You shrugged. "I don't know. We were fourteen? Fifteen? Shit. Merle was gone but it was before Melissa." 

"Motherfucker," he declared. "Holy shit, girl, I know what I was doin' every chance I got alone at that age. Ya didn't-?" 

"Watch you jacking off? Yes, yes I did. It might have showed up in my own teenage explorations more than a few times," you told him, utterly unashamed. 

He was staring, face flaming so badly you could see it in the dark. "Fuckin' hell." 

You grinned. "If it helps, I was very impressed." 

"Shut the hell up, girl," he snapped, closing his eyes and shaking his head. You pressed a kiss to his jaw and he stilled, fingers on your side digging in again. You slid your hand from his and touched his cheek, turning his scowling face your way again so you could press another kiss to his lips. He kissed you back after a pause, both of you feeling it when the mood shifted. 

He rolled you until he leaned over you, one hand in your hair and the other on your hip, fingers resting on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. He paused, pulling away to look down at you questioningly. "Ya sure, baby?" he whispered when you tried to pull him back down to you. 

You sigh impatiently. "Daryl. Come on, man. It's been five years, and that hate fuck against a wall was nice and all, but I've missed you, asshole. Yes, I'm sure. Kiss me, damn it." 

He laughed and obliged, sliding his hand under your shirt. You squirmed around to help him pull the whole damn thing off, tossing it aside as you started on the buttons on his. He shook his arms free, looking down at you, and as you tossed his across the cell with yours, his fingers were on your skin again. 

"This's new," he whispered, tracing the Cherokee rose on your ribs. 

You smiled, arching under his fingers. "Mmhhmm."

"When?" he asked, voice a little strange. 

You ran your fingers absently down his arm and the muscle trembled. "Ten years to the day from when we left," you told him, breath catching as he bent to skim his lips over the flower. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kept pressing feather-light kisses over you. 

"Why?" he whispered against your sternum. He was working at the button on your jeans as he asked, lips running up your body to your neck until he hovered over yours. 

You shivered, fingers clenching on his back. "My journey. That's what they all are." 

"Hmmm," he whispered. "How many of 'em are about me?" 

You frowned at him. "You can't tell?" 

"Maybe. Might just wanna hear ya say it." 

"Asshole," you muttered. He grinned, dropping down to bite at your lip and make you shiver. "Fine! Four." 

"Four?"

"Yep. You have to figure out which ones on your own," you added, petulantly. 

"Aight," he whispered, challenge lighting his eyes. He scooted down, kissing the rose again. "This one." 

You hummed agreement, fingers in his hair again. He tugged your jeans down and skimmed his lips over the devil on your hip. 

"That one," he whispered with his lips still on your skin. You were trembling all over now, and he slid back up, kissed you hard, and flipped you over. His hands cruised down your back, his mouth following along your spine. Then he tapped his fingers against the roman numerals that ran side-by-side with the Nameless mark you'd gotten done after you were fully patched. "This. Our anniversary date, ain't it?" 

You grimaced. "Yep. Didn't think we'd ever break up," you admitted. 

He stilled over you, then lowered his forehead to your back. "Me neither," he said softly. "Baby, I-" 

You rolled over again so you could set your fingers against his lips. "Don't, Daryl. Don't. I know, ok? It's- well, it's not fine, but shit. We've lost like six years. Can we just- let it go?" 

He gave reached for your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, and nodded. "Aight. Still sorry." 

You groaned, pushing at his face with your hand. "What did I just say, Dixon? Jesus." 

He smirked at you. "Got one more to find, don't I?" 

"Maybe," you said with a shrug. "You've already seen it, though. Just don't really know why it's about you, I'd guess." 

He frowned, studying your body with an intensity that made you both laugh and squirm. Finally he tapped the key on your collar bone. "This's the only one I ain't figured out yet, girl." 

You nodded. "It's your key. To my place. I was trying to take it back, I guess. It was dumb," you said with a shake of your head. "Trying to lock you out. Pretty safe to say it didn't work." 

His fingers traced over it, sadness moving in his eyes again. "I like the other three better," he muttered, but leaned down and pressed a kiss to it, too.


	69. Peace Sells, But Who's Buyin'?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> past child abuse  
> mentions of drug use

Twelve thirty pm. 

You felt like you'd only had your eyes closed for a minute, and hell, that was probably true. Either way, you were wide awake now. You laid there for a bit, Daryl's body warm against you. He was breathing deeply, curled up facing the door. You were curled around his back, face pressed into him. 

You realized pretty quickly that no matter how tired you were, you weren't going back to sleep just yet. Damn it all. 

You eased out from behind him and started gathering up scattered pieces of clothing. You dressed rapidly, leaving off your jacket and vest but strapping your holster to your thigh. You bent and kissed Daryl's cheek lightly before you ducked out of the cell. 

You could hear Beth's soft voice, singing to Judith in her cell. You stuck your head in and she smiled at you. "Need anything?" you whispered, and she shook her head, still singing. 

Next you stopped by the cell you'd locked Merle in for the night, sliding up the steps and past Maggie and Glenn's cell to get to him, the furthest one on the upper level. He was flat on his back, arms flung out, sound asleep. You studied him for a minute, wondering just how much trouble he was going to be from here on out. Would he make it easy for the others to accept him? Or was he going to make life miserable for everyone for awhile as payback for his hand? 

Finally you headed back, glancing in everyone's cells and doing a quick head count. You found everyone but Shane, and you frowned. 

Something was going on with Walsh, and you wanted to know what. He'd said he was going on watch, so you went out too. 

The night air was downright cool and you almost immediately regretted not grabbing your jacket. You wrapped your arms around yourself and headed for the perch you figured he'd taken, since access to the guard towers was impossible right now. You steadfastly ignored the walkers gathered practically at your doorstep. That was tomorrow's problem. 

He was where you thought he'd be, scanning with binoculars and with a rifle beside him against the wooden pallet barricade. He glanced up when he heard you and frowned. 

"Where the hell's your jacket, Nameless? Too fucking cold for you to be out here with bare arms like that." 

You rolled your eyes and looked out through the slats in the pallets at his side. He glanced at you when you turned and looked at him, then went back to staring into the night. 

"What do you want, girl?" he asked when you didn't say anything. 

"What's up with you, Officer?" you finally asked. 

He scoffed, running a hand over his head. You chuckled at the familiar move and he glared at you. "What?" 

"You've got a tell, that's what. Seriously, what's going on? Why the hell are you so pissed at me you're barely willing to look at me?" you asked. "Don't tolerate me anymore?" 

He met your eyes briefly before looking away. "Tolerate you just fine." 

"Then what's the issue, man?" you asked, exasperated. 

He grunted. "Pissed you left. We needed you here." 

"I'm back now. And I brought help," you added with a shrug. 

Shane scoffed and shot you a look. "Merle fuckin' Dixon isn't help. He's another problem." 

You sighed and leaned your head against the wooden pallet. "Do we need to have this argument again? Now? Or can we talk about what's really bothering you?" 

"Merle is what's bothering me," he snapped. 

"Nope. Try again." 

He set the rifle down, turned to you, and glared. "What the hell do you want from me, Nameless?" 

You shrugged. "The truth. To keep tolerating each other, I guess. Kinda gotten used to being friendly with you and all." 

He kept glaring for a minute before running his hand over his head again. He looked away, opening his mouth to speak right as you shivered massively. He sighed and stripped off his own jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders even as you scowled. 

"I'm fine, Walsh," you protested, but you couldn't deny you were warmer. 

He rolled his eyes at you. "Shut up, Nameless. Bring your own next time." 

"Don't make me track you down in the middle of the night to figure out what's wrong with you. I was perfectly warm in bed with Dixon, thank you very much," you shot back. 

Shane's eyes tightened and he looked away from you. "Yeah. Look, we're good, ok? Get back inside and get warm. Can't believe you came out here without even that goddamn vest. Thought you wore that shit everywhere." 

You frowned, ignoring his attempt to change the subject. "Why do I not believe you, Walsh?" 

He gave you a bland look. "Your business what you believe, girl." 

"Shane." 

"YN. Leave it alone, alright? Trust me. We're good," he said softly. He hooked his arm around your neck, pulled you in, and kissed your forehead, all without meeting your eyes. Then he gave you a push toward the cell block. "Go back to bed. I'll trade with Rick in an hour or so." 

You sighed, eyeing him as he turned back to the fence and the zombies. "I hope you mean it, Walsh. I'd hate to lose one of the few people I tolerate around here." 

He didn't respond with anything more than a tight smile, and you turned to walk away, shoulders slumped in defeat. You had to hope he came around, you guessed. You stopped a couple of steps away and pulled his jacket from your shoulders. 

"Think fast, Officer," you called as you tossed it at him, and he snatched it from the air easily. 

"Go to bed, criminal." 

 

 

The next morning Rick strode in, tossed keys to Maggie, and started issuing instructions. 

"Take watch. Eyes open, head down. Field's full of walkers. Didn't see any snipers out there, but we'll keep Maggie on watch," he said. 

"Daryl and I can get up in the guard tower, start taking out the dead. Give these guys a chance to fix the fence," you offered. 

"Or we could take the bus, load them up and lead them out of here," Michonne put in. 

"Can't access the field without burning through our bullets," Hershel disagreed. 

Glenn's voice was pissed. "So we're trapped in here. Barely any food or ammo." 

"Been here before. We'll be alright," Daryl said.

"That's when it was just us! Before there was a snake in the nest," Glenn snapped. 

"Man, we gonna go through this again?" Daryl's voice was hard and annoyed. "Look, Merle's staying here. He's with us now. Get used to it. All y'all," he added with a glare around the gathered group. 

Shane scoffed as Daryl stalked off, heading up to where Merle had been moved to a cell for the night. You glared at Shane even as Glenn started up again. 

"Rick, I don't think having Merle Dixon living with us is going to work," Glenn snapped. 

"I can't kick him out," Rick snapped back with a glance at you. "You want to lose Daryl and YN again?"

You sighed. "Merle has military experience," you said softly. "Glenn, man- I can't- Look, are we friends?" 

Glenn glared at you through his bruised up face, but he nodded. "Yeah." 

"Good," you said quietly. "I'm so sorry. I know-" You stopped and ran a hand through your hair. "Look, man. I know how Merle can be, ok? I get it. And I've seen Merle- hell, I've helped Merle- do exactly the kind of damage I can see on your face. It makes me sick to see it, too, because you are my friend. But you have to understand. He's my brother." 

Glenn's jaw tightened and he looked away. "He threw a walker at me." 

"Shit," you muttered. "Yeah, ok, I didn't know that. Fuck." You paused for a minute, trying to figure out where to go from there. "I know you knew him at the camp. He was high as a fucking kite the whole time, wasn't he? Racist, sexist, asshole?" 

Glenn and Shane both snorted. "Understatement," Shane muttered. 

"Yeah, I can imagine. He's not- he's not always like that. He saved my life, Glenn. You have no reason to trust him, I get it. I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to trust me and Daryl. I've been managing Merle for years, and he's sober now too. Please. Give him a chance," you asked, setting a hand on Glenn's arm. 

Glenn's jaw tightened and he looked away. "I don't like it."

"I know," you agreed. "I wouldn't expect you to." 

"A chance. One." 

"Thank you," you whispered, patting his arm for a minute. "He may be erratic, but don't underestimate his loyalty to us." 

 

 

Daryl and Merle managed to keep you from meeting Will for almost three months. It was probably a good thing, too, you'd realized when you were older, since you'd been ready to kill him in his sleep after your first experience with his temper. During those three months, you'd grown steadily closer to those Dixon brats, as your foster sister called them once with a look down her perfect nose. You'd rolled your eyes and called her a bitch under your breath so your foster mom couldn't hear you. 

Not that it would have mattered if she had, since she was drinking already at ten o'clock on a Saturday morning. 

It was only after your foster dad slapped you across the face and you'd slid into Daryl's bedroom window that night that you'd started to realize what might happen if you confronted Will. Up until then, you'd raged off and on at both Daryl and Merle about telling your CPS worker about what was happening next time she came by. You'd insisted that she could help them. 

They'd exchange looks every time and make some kind of flippant comment about it not being so bad. You'd scowl and mutter something about them saying that with black eyes and split lips, and you didn't get it. Why didn't they want out? 

Then you'd been laying in Daryl's bed for the third night in a row, him not even questioning it when you knocked on his window and slid it open to crawl through, and it hit you. 

If they reported it, they'd be gone. And you'd be alone. 

You hadn't been able to meet Daryl's eyes the next morning on the walk to school, and he'd finally snapped at you to tell him what the hell was wrong. When you'd whispered that you were a bad friend, he'd snorted. 

"You're my only friend," he'd said, kicking a rock. "What the hell you talkin' about?" 

You'd confessed that you didn't want them to tell the CPS lady about their dad so they wouldn't leave you there alone. Daryl'd thrown his head back and laughed. He'd told you that's why they never had- because they knew if they did they'd be split up. He'd tossed his arm around your shoulders as you'd walked and told you not to worry about it. They weren't going to leave you, ever. 

Three weeks after that, you met Will for the first time. He'd come in unexpectedly while you and Daryl and Merle were in the kitchen getting a snack after school, you and Daryl mid-argument about the science project you'd been paired up to work on together. Will had walked in and Merle'd taken three steps forward and gotten between Will and you. Daryl's hand grabbed yours under the edge of the table, holding on like he was going to shove you behind him at a moment's notice. 

Both of them eyed Will with a tight wariness that reminded you of tigers circling each other in a nature documentary one of your foster brothers had been watching a few days before. Will glanced past Merle without saying anything and frowned when he saw you. 

"Who the fuck is that?" he asked. 

You stepped forward, shaking off Daryl's hand and moving around Merle. You held your hand out to Will, back straight, and looked him in the eyes. He took your hand automatically, and you gave his a firm shake. 

"Hi, Mr. Dixon. I'm YN. I live next door," you told him pleasantly. "It's nice to meet you. Daryl and I are in class together." 

He eyed you as you let go of his hand. Merle was hovering at your back, but you hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid. Finally Will grunted. 

"You're the foster kid? Shit, you're a tiny thing. Don't they feed you none over there? Boys! She's gonna eat our food, y'all better hunt more up," Will declared to Daryl and Merle, shoving past the three of you to open the refrigerator and grab a beer. 

"Yes, sir," Merle said immediately. "We were going to head out as soon as we finished our homework." You'd never heard Merle's voice sound that formal or diffident. The twelve year old radiated confidence and swagger normally, tossing his opinion in and expecting to be heard. 

But not now. Not with Will. Will took a long drink and frowned at him. "Why don't ya go now? Your daddy needs some peace and quiet after the shit day I've had today. Damn pigs all up in my shit today at the shop. Don't need no damn kid chatter makin' my headache worse." 

"Yes, sir. We're going right now," Merle agreed, grabbing you by the arm. Daryl shot over to the table and collected your stuff while Merle started hustling you toward the back door. Daryl scooped up your backpack on the move as Will tipped back his head and drained the beer in his hand. 

"Bye, nice to meet you," you called politely as Merle pushed you through in front of him. Will's answering grunt was cut off by Daryl closing the door and shoving your backpack in your hands. 

Merle scowled at you even as they kept moving, herding you toward the trees. "What the hell, girl? Don't fuckin' get near him! He could hurt ya!" 

You shrugged. "I know. But I'm your friend. Might need to be on semi-friendly terms with him, right? Can't hurt to try." 

"Yeah," Merle said grimly. "It can."


	70. Everybody's Got The Dues In Life To Pay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of past attempted rape/ non con  
> mentions of past murder  
> mentions of past drug use

"When the Governor returns," you heard Merle's voice saying from his cell, "he's gonna kill me first. Then Michonne, my brother and my baby girl there. Then your girls, Glenn, Carl, the baby. He'll save Rick for last, so he can watch his family and his friends die ugly. That's who you're dealing with." 

Hershel's steady voice came in response. "Well, then it's a good thing we have some more fighters with us, isn't it? Here. You can borrow this if you'd like. I see your loyalty to them. I've heard her say enough things that I know what kind of man your father was, and hers. I know you made a place for them to go. Let them make a place for you, now." 

You leaned against the wall outside the cell as you heard Hershel's crutches.

"Hershel," Merle called after a beat. The clicking stopped instantly. Merle hesitated, then he spoke. "I didn't save them. They saved me. Her especially. Damn tiny thing, moved in next door, scrawny ass eight year old punk who latched on to my brother like a damn tick. Two of us were all we had till she came along. Gave us something to look out for besides ourselves. I won't do any damn thing that'll get that girl or my little brother hurt." 

"See? Loyalty," Hershel answered, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "They feel the same way. She's been fighting for you as long as I've known her." 

"Hell, she's been fighting for me a lot longer than that, old man. The Lord ain't done shit for me. But I'll work my way into ol' Officer Friendly's good graces for their sakes." 

"I'm sure you will," Hershel agreed. When he appeared in the doorway, he didn't look at all surprised to see you standing there. He gave you a slight nod and moved past you without breaking his stride. 

You touched his shoulder gratefully as he went past, then ducked into Merle's cell. Crossing your arms and leaning in the doorway, you looked down your nose at him with practiced disdain. 

"Scrawny ass eight year old punk?" 

He'd been staring at the cover of a Bible, one you'd seen Hershel carrying around a lot these days. He looked up at you and grinned. "Hell, yeah, baby girl. Scrawny little shit, that was you." 

You held your expression for a beat longer before grinning back at him. "Fuck, that's probably fair." 

He laughed and waved you in. "What's on your mind, girlie?" 

"You, asshole. I talked Glenn down. You get one, exactly one, chance." You wandered over to sit beside him. "So, I need to know: do you have anything anywhere? Please." 

Merle sighed, setting the Bible down and fidgeting with the pages absently. "Naw, baby girl. I'm clean. For real." 

You heaved a huge sigh. "Promise?" 

"I ain't been sober this long since I was a teenager, girlie. I could give blood if ya needed it." He smirked at you, but there was something anxious in his eyes, ghosts of old demons that still haunted him.

"Thank God," you muttered. You tipped your head to his shoulder, and he sighed. 

"Hell, honey. Been awhile, ain't it?" 

You snorted. "You think? It's been like a year, man. And you weren't exactly a joy to talk to then." 

"Yeah. Lot's been goin' down, too. Gonna tell me about shit, baby girl?" 

You hesitated. "Like what?" 

"I don't know. Killin' people, for starters, girlie. Some shit about a little girl and a C section, too, right? Ol' Merle knows ya well enough to know that shit don't sit well with ya," he said seriously. 

You fidgeted, picking at the blanket under you. "I don't want to talk about all that, Merle." 

"Maybe not, but I need to know all the same." 

"Why?" you snapped, pushing off his shoulder to glare at him. "What difference does it make? I did plenty of fucked-up shit with you before all this started. Why does it matter that I've done more?" 

He gave you a look. "'Cause it changes people, darlin'. And 'cause ol' Merle needs to know the ropes around here. I need to know what's what." 

Ugh. You couldn't really argue with that. You pressed your lips together in thought. "What do you know already?" 

He gave you a summary of what Andrea had filled him in on, all the way up to the fall of the farm. "She didn't mention nothin' about ya killin' nobody, though. Actually, she didn't mention you much at all." 

You chuckled. "I'm not surprised. She got pissy when Shane didn't stop hanging out with me after he fucked her." 

Merle snorted. "Shit, baby girl. You fucked a pig." 

"Shut it, Merle. He's not that bad. Neither of them are. That's the first thing you need to get straight," you told him seriously, leaning back against the wall. "They're good men. They've done whatever had to be done to keep people safe and alive. They've killed for this group, same as I have. Made hard calls," you finished sadly. "We all have." 

He was watching you closely. "Ya caught feelings for Walsh, girl? Thought you and my brother were back together." 

"We are," you snapped, glaring at him. "I don't have to be in love with the officer to give a shit about him, Merle. We're friends." 

"That's a damn sight more than you've been with any other man ya slept with, baby girl. Cain't fault me for askin'," he said with a shrug. You made a face at him, but yeah- you really couldn't fault him for it. 

"That's fair," you finally muttered. "The baby is theirs," you put in, changing the subject deliberately. "It's Shane's and Lori's, but Lori was back with Rick, so Rick considers her his as well. Shane agrees." 

Merle looked surprised. "Walsh was puttin' the wood to Lori? Damn, I didn't see that one comin'." 

You snorted. "Yeah, it was a big fuckin' deal. Had to do a major two-step a few times to keep the three of them from killing each other. It all worked out, though." 

"And Lori died havin' the baby?" 

You went silent, Lori's screams and the warmth of her blood on your hands still bright and fresh in your mind. It really hadn't been all that long. "Yeah," you said softly. "Yeah, I killed her cutting little Ass-kicker out of her stomach. She asked me to." 

"Shit, baby girl. That's rougher than most things I been through," he said quietly, touching your chin with his fingers. "Didn't think there's much in the world could come close to some of the shit I seen in the army. That does, though." 

You leaned back against him, closing your eyes against the tears. "You never talk about it when you're sober. You barely talk about it when you're not." 

"I don't wanna put that on ya, baby girl," he said, voice a warning. "Ain't gonna start now, not when ya got plenty of ya own shit." 

You snorted. "I know you killed at least one kid." 

He froze. "How the hell ya know that, girl?" His voice was hard as a rock. 

"You told me. Or close enough to it. You don't remember? Shit, you were high as hell. Mine and Daryl's anniversary, several years back. I came and got you, we watched some dumbass movie with soldiers. Soldier rescued a kid, and you told me that's not how it happens in real life. Spent the night in my bed, you were so messed up," you said quietly. You reached over and grabbed his hand. "I didn't get it then, but I do now. I had to shoot a little girl we knew. She got lost in the woods, got bit or maybe just got dead somehow. She'd turned, and we were still looking for her. It messed Daryl up big time when she came out of that barn. I put her down." 

Merle sighed. "That's some rough shit too, baby girl." 

"Yeah," you agreed. "Lots of rough shit going around these days. What about you, brother?" 

He snorted. "What'd I just tell ya, girl? I ain't gonna lay nothin' else on those pretty shoulders." 

"Don't try to flirt your way out of this, Dixon," you laughed. "You don't want to talk, that's fine. Like I told Walsh when we left Otis behind- we can talk about it, or we can just sit here. Your choice." 

He tightened his grip on your fingers. "I know ya heard more'n just my comment about how scrawny ya were, darlin'. Just so you know, I meant it all. I'll prove myself to your Officer Friendly, whatever it takes. I ain't leavin' ya." 

You smiled. "I know." 

"Meant it when I said ya saved me, too," he added softly. "Sorry I's an asshole about Atlanta. Know ya never woulda left me up there. Not you. Part of why I hacked my hand off. I's- I's afraid ya was dead. If you hadn't been, you'd have come back for me."

"I tried," you whispered. "We looked for you. I was so angry at them, Merle. Then we didn't find you, the camp was overrun, and we had- we had to go. There wasn't anything we could do." 

"I'm sure, baby girl. I ain't angry. Never could stay mad at ya for nothing. Come on, now. I'd like the second option, ya don't mind. Missed just sittin' in silence with ya," he said, brushing a kiss to your hair. 

You nodded against his shoulder. "Sounds good to me, brother. Don't get pissed if I fall asleep, though," you added with a yawn. 

He chuckled. "You go on to sleep if ya need to, girlie. Ya ain't never got enough sleep in ya whole damn life."

You sat there in silence until you heard Daryl calling your name.

 

 

You sought Maggie out next. Merle had told you and Daryl what he knew, and when Rick and Shane came for a planning session, he'd outlined what he knew of the Governor, his people, and the town of Woodbury with precision and a distinct lack of asshole moves that you appreciated, though he had given Shane a look that had made you glare at him in frustration. You didn't need him giving Shane any more reasons to be weird with you. 

You found Maggie in the cell she shared with Glenn, and you cleared your throat from the doorway. She looked up in surprise and offered you a small smile. 

"Hey," she said as you stepped inside. You leaned on the wall and watched as her eyes slid from yours. 

"Hey," you said back. "Maggie, I know we aren't the closest people in the world, but Merle told me a little about what happened," you started. 

Her face shut down instantly. "I'm fine," she cut you off. 

"I'm sure you are. You're one tough chick," you agreed easily. "I just wanted you to know, I'm here if you need to talk. The men don't get it," you continued as she opened her mouth to speak. "They ask if he did anything, and they can't even say the word most of the time. They're angry, for you and for them, but it's all from a place of protectiveness. You're theirs, in whatever way, no matter how well intentioned, and they tend to look at it like that." 

She was looking at you closely now, her expression still guarded but not the stone wall it had been. "Glenn kept pushing. Kept asking just like that- if he did anything." 

You nodded. "He means well. The good ones always do. They care about you, they just don't have any idea how to handle it. Daryl and Merle were the same way, when my foster dad tried." You shook your head, smiling faintly. "Daryl was always my safe space, and I ran right to him. He was- well, he knew the situation, and he handled it better than I think I had any right to expect. Didn't push, didn't pry. Just put himself between me and the door, handed me a pillow, and told me to go to sleep. That he'd watch out for me. The next day we ran away to Atlanta, to Merle. Daryl sent me a half mile up the road and went to his place to grab some things. Got in a fight with my foster dad." 

Maggie stared at you. "How are you smilin' about that?" 

"It was a long time ago, Maggie. And leaving is one of my best memories, to be honest," you said with a shrug. "Point is, even Daryl couldn't help getting violent right then. And the two of them killed the asshole a few years later. Years, Mags. And he didn't do more than grab a feel through my shirt." 

She winced. "Governor made me take my shirt off or he'd cut off Glenn's hand. He bent me over a table and pushed himself on me." She was looking at her hands, voice soft and full of guilt. 

You shifted, pissed off again that someone would dare. "You didn't break," you said firmly.

Her eyes shot to yours. "I did. Later, in the room when he was going to shoot Glenn."

"No," you said with a shake of your head. "That's not breaking. That's protecting someone you love. There's a difference. You stood up to that asshat and you survived. Maggie, a man like that wouldn't have hesitated to keep going if he thought it would break you. If you'd shown the slightest hint that it would. But he didn't, because he knew right away you wouldn't crack. You're strong as hell, girlfriend," you teased, lightening your tone. 

She cracked a smile, some of the light coming back into her eyes. 

"Atta girl," you said at the sight of it, grinning at her outright. "I'm here if you ever need to talk. I know how it can fuck with your head." 

She stood up and hugged you. You hugged her back, and when she pulled away she met your eyes without flinching. "We're gonna kick his ass. I hate Merle," she said abruptly. 

You sighed. "I know. I don't blame you." 

"I'll give him a chance, as long as he stays away from Glenn," she told you. "Just in case it needs sayin', I don't hate you. I don't blame you for leavin' with them. He's your brother. I'd do a lot for my sister, and I'd have done anything for Shawn." 

Your throat felt unexpectedly tight. "Thanks, Maggie." 

She nodded. "You need to talk to Shane, though. He- he didn't take it well when you and Daryl didn't come back." 

You grimaced. "I've talked to him. Something's up, be he says we're good." 

"If you say so," she said dubiously, but she didn't push. The two of you left the cell and parted ways, Maggie going to find Glenn and you heading out to take watch. 

You scanned the trees with the rifle's scope, wondering just how in the hell you were going to help your crazy little family all learn to get along.


	71. Runnin' With The Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

"Andrea's outside the fence, leading a walker!" 

Carl's voice cut through the cell block, and you were on your feet and moving before he'd finished speaking. You took the stairs three at a time and met Daryl and Merle on the way. 

"This is going to be good," you muttered to them 

Merle snorted. "Got a warped sense of what's good news, darlin'." 

 

 

Shane was the one who tossed Merle a rifle, and you caught his eye and gave him a nod. With Maggie on watch in the reinforced perch, you and Shane fell into step behind Rick, Daryl, and Merle, setting up to cover the rear. 

"Trust Merle more than Andrea?" you muttered to him as you took cover behind one of the cars and aimed. 

He snorted, settling into place with his shotgun. "He ain't fuckin' the enemy." 

"Thought you and Andrea were close back on the farm," you asked, tracking her progress with an eye to the scope. 

"Fucked once. Don't make us close," he shot back. 

You pulled your eye from the scope and looked at him, feeling like that was a jab at you. "Do you say that about us, too? Thought we were friends, Walsh." 

"We are. She and I ain't." 

You eyed him a minute longer, knowing something still wasn't right between him and you, but you had a job to do, damn it. You set your eye back against the scope and found Andrea again, almost at the gate. 

"Go!" you heard Rick hiss, and Merle moved with a precision you'd never seen from him. 

"Clear!" he called when he'd scanned the area. Rick and Daryl moved forward to either side of the gate while Merle stayed where he was, covering them on one knee with a set to his jaw you hadn't seen in years. 

"Are you alone?" Rick yelled to Andrea. 

She swung and took out a walker who got close, holding an armless and jawless one at arms' length with a lead pole like you'd seen in the arena. "Open the gate!" 

"Are you alone?" Rick snapped again.

"Rick!" she snapped, voice panicked. 

Rick nodded at Daryl and tossed him the keys. As soon as Andrea was through, Daryl slammed the gate as Rick spun Andrea around and started searching her. He pushed her to her knees on the ground while she looked around like she was completely confused. 

"I asked if you were alone," Rick said again, taking the bag from her shoulders. 

"I- I am," she said, sounding like she couldn't believe you weren't welcoming her with open arms. 

Rick tossed her bag aside. You whistled once after scanning the trees with the scope, and got an answering whistle back from Maggie. Rick nodded his understanding of the all-clear signal and pulled Andrea to her feet with a muttered 'welcome back.' 

You and Shane stayed in place, covering their retreat, until Daryl tapped your shoulder as he passed. 

 

 

Maggie and Carl came in from the perch, Glenn and Carol and Michonne from the skyway where they'd been covering you all as well. Everyone gathered in the common area except Beth and the baby. 

You hopped onto the table beside Merle to watch the action, already mildly amused and mildly irritated by the whole damn thing. What could this woman possibly want from you all? Sure, she'd tried to stop the gladiator fight in the arena, but the Governor had crashed your gates and nearly killed your people, and where the hell had she been then? 

The hugging started pretty much immediately, with Andrea and Carol exchanging a long embrace. She hugged Shane next, and he patted her back and rolled his eyes at you when you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively at him. Merle snorted lightly beside you. 

"She ain't tried to hug you, baby girl. Ain't the two of ya friends?" 

You scoffed and muttered back while Andrea looked over Hershel. "Friends would be pushing it." 

"Where's Lori?" Andrea asked, looking around. 

Rick's head dropped and you remembered what Shane had told you about his mental state here lately. You tensed, but Hershel answered for Rick. 

"She had a girl. Lori didn't survive."

"Neither did T Dog," Maggie added. 

Andrea tried to give sympathy to Carl and Rick, but both of them shifted away from her slightly when she started toward them. She hesitated, but changed the subject. "You all live here?" 

"Here and the cell block," Glenn answered. The bruises on his face still looked rough, but healing was setting in. Slowly.

"Can I go in?" Andrea asked, already heading toward the door. You slid from the table as Rick stepped in her path and told her he wouldn't allow that. When she didn't do anything but protest that she wasn't the enemy, you hopped back up. Daryl came and leaned beside you, and you slid your fingers absently into his hair. 

"We had that field and courtyard until your boyfriend tore down the fence with a truck and shot us up," you called to Andrea. 

She looked over at you, confusion on her face. "He said you fired first." 

"Well, he's lyin'," Rick declared bluntly. You shrugged at Andrea when she looked back at you. 

"He killed an inmate who survived in here," Hershel added. 

"We liked him. He was one of us," Daryl added. 

Andrea's eyes flicked from Daryl to you and you rolled your own. 

"I didn't know him before," you told her. "It's not like I know every criminal in Georgia personally. Jesus, why do people keep assuming that?" 

Merle and Shane both laughed, and even Rick cracked a tiny hint of a smile. Andrea sighed, shaking her head. 

"I didn't know anything about that. As soon as I found out, I came. I didn't even know you were in Woodbury until after the shootout," she added, turning to Maggie and Glenn. Her eyes were wide as she turned, looking around the circle your people had formed around her. Everywhere she looked, she was met with expressions that ranged from reserved to downright pissed off. 

She scoffed, turning to Michonne, who leaned on the wall silently. "What have you told them?" Andrea snapped. 

"Nothing," Michonne answered in a voice that clearly showed just how irritated she was. 

"I don't get it," Andrea said, turning the circle again. "I left Atlanta with you people and now I'm the odd man out?" 

"He almost killed Michonne, and he would have killed us," Glenn said seriously. 

"With his finger on the trigger!" Andrea cut in, finger pointing squarely at Merle. "Isn't he the one who kidnapped you? Who beat you?" 

Merle said nothing, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slight smirk as you looked at him in warning.

"Look," Andrea continued. "I cannot excuse or explain what Philip has done. But I am here trying to bring us together." 

"Who says we want to be brought together?" you asked bluntly, leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees and your chin on your hands. "I mean, he was going to kill Maggie and Glenn, pit Daryl and Merle against each other in a fight to the death, and 'find another way to deal with' me." You added air quotes just for kicks, and Andrea looked pissed off. 

Shane caught your eye across the room with a what the hell expression, clearly not having been told a lot of the story. Maybe he'd been too busy being pissed at you to ask about what had happened while you were gone. 

"We have to work this out!" Andrea declared passionately. 

Rick started toward her with a sneer. "There's nothing to work out. We're gonna kill him. I don't know how or when, but we will." 

Jesus, Deputy Grimes, you thought, eyebrows shooting up. That was bold. 

"We can settle this," Andrea repeated. "There is room at Woodbury for all of you." 

Merle chuckled at that one. "You know better than that," he said quietly, and Andrea didn't bother to look his way or respond. 

There was more, of course. Andrea didn't give up that easily. But you could see in Rick's eyes and in the eyes of everyone in that room that nobody cared what she had to say. Especially when Hershel asked how she knew he even wanted to negotiate, and Andrea was forced to tell you all that she was there because he was gearing up for war. Not because he wanted to talk, but because he wanted to fight. 

"Tell you what," Daryl spoke up. "Next time you see Philip? You tell him I'm gonna take his other eye." 

"I don't know," you countered. "I'm thinking maybe Glenn and Maggie have a bit more of a claim to that one than you do." 

Maggie winced. "I'm good, thanks." 

 

 

You had to give it to Andrea, she didn't give up easily. She kept pushing, trying to change Rick's mind, even when he told her the only thing he was interested in was a way inside the town. When Rick strode out, she tried to convince Shane, Daryl, Glenn. She tried to talk to Michonne, but judging from the looks on both their faces when they came back inside, that didn't go well at all. 

You couldn't really bring yourself to mind.

When Carol wanted to introduce Andrea to Little Ass-kicker, you followed warily to keep an eye on her. It wasn't that you didn't trust Andrea. It was more that, well, you didn't trust anyone who wasn't a part of your group. 

Andrea held her and cooed, guessing Daryl was the one who named her Ass-kicker. 

"Her real name's Judith," Carol said quietly. 

"What happened to Lori?" Andrea asked after a minute. 

Carol's eyes went to you and you sighed. "During the C section. Maggie walked me through it. Carl put her down." 

"Oh my God," Andrea whispered, eyes wide. 

"T Dog died leading me to safety," Carol added. 

"Rick's become cold. Unsteady. Shane too," Andrea said quietly. Her eyes stayed on Carol, not moving to you, and you snorted. 

"Like me, you mean?" you asked bluntly. Her eyes flickered to you and a slightly guilty look appeared in her eyes. 

"He has his reasons," Carol put in before an argument could brew between you and Andrea. "They both do. The Governor, you need to do something. You need to sleep with him. Give him the greatest night of his life. Get him to drop his guard, and when he's sleeping, you end this." 

"Shit balls, Carol!" you exclaimed, both you and Andrea staring at her in disbelief. Andrea looked at you with wide eyes. "Don't look at me; this is all her." 

Carol's face remained serious. "Think about it," she said, taking the baby back from Andrea.


	72. I Know Everything Will Be Ok, If I Die Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> references to past child abuse  
> breaking and entering

Beth started singing to everyone again that night, after you'd all been sitting around in silence staring at each other. Daryl's arm was draped over your shoulders when Rick wandered up to you with Judith in his arms. 

"Some reunion, huh?" Daryl said quietly. 

"She's in a jam," Rick replied. 

You scoffed a little, eyes moving over your group. "We all are. She's persuasive. He's armed to the teeth and bent on destruction." 

"What are we gonna do?" Daryl asked bluntly.

Rick's eyes passed over the group slowly, lingering on Merle and Michonne. "We match it. I'm going on a run." 

"We can go tomorrow, Rick," you offered. You were still concerned about the man's mental health. He'd been pretty hit or miss since Lori's death, and anything you could do to ease that strain was worth the weight on your own shoulders. Your little kingdom needed the Rickocracy in place, or everything tended to fall apart.

He shook his head. "You two stay here. Keep an eye on your brother. I'm glad you're back, really. But if he causes a problem, it's on you two." 

"I got him," Daryl answered in a huff before you could say anything. 

Rick nodded, smiling faintly at both of you. "I know you do. I'll take Michonne and Carl. He's ready, and that'll leave you two Glenn, Maggie, and Shane. You hold it down here." 

"You got it," Daryl agreed before you could volunteer to at least got with him. Rick wandered off and Daryl pulled you closer as you frowned at Rick's retreating back. "You aight, baby?" 

You sighed and turned so he could wrap both arms around you, your cheek on his chest. He wrapped his hand around the back of your neck before running his fingers through your hair. 

"I should be going, to watch his back. Plus, it's going to be bloody," you whispered. 

"Mhhmm," he agreed. "It is. He can handle himself, though." 

"But can he handle bloody, Daryl? He hasn't exactly been stable lately. Shit, can we handle bloody?"

His arms tightened around you, and you read the worry he was trying to suppress in his tone. "We're gonna have to. We'll be aight, baby. Promise."

You closed your eyes and listened to Beth singing for awhile. Then you pulled away from him with a sigh. "I'm gonna go take watch for a few hours. Need some fresh air." 

He nodded, his fingers lingering in yours as you pulled away. You stopped by where Merle perched on an upturned bucket and sharpened a machete to strap to his metal arm. 

"Stay out of trouble, asshole," you told him, dropping a kiss on his cheek as you went by him.

He snorted and didn't look up, but you could see the faint smile on his lips. "Don't count on it, baby girl." 

 

 

Merle's bike was half-hidden behind the dumpster outside the liquor store, which was unusual on a Sunday at eleven pm. You frowned when you saw it, rapid steps toward home slowing as you eyed it, the store, and the surrounding buildings. The street was deserted, except for you, but you could tell something was up. Merle shouldn't have been in town, much less parked back there.

You were in enough goddamn trouble as it was if you didn't get your ass home soon. Sneaking out to head over to Daryl's was bad enough if you got caught, but sneaking out to go to a party thrown by high school seniors was a really shit plan. Daryl had told you not to go, but come on. 

You'd been invited to a senior's party before you turned fourteen. Not by the senior throwing it, of course, but by a boy one grade ahead of you. You'd been utterly unable to resist, even if you knew it was a set up. Josh Erikson didn't give a shit about you, and you didn't give a shit about him either. It had to be some sort of dare, but still. Senior party. 

Daryl had scoffed and called you an idiot. 

He'd been right, and you'd had to break the kid's nose when he tried to cross some lines you'd already told him you weren't crossing. Of course, then you'd been faced with the choice of walking home alone at this time of night, or trying to get hold of Merle. You'd tried for Merle, because sure you were an idiot but you weren't a total dumbass about it. He wasn't answering his phone- of course. 

As you stared at his bike, you were starting to see why. 

You sneaked around to where the bike was and frowned at the slightly-cracked back door. Was Merle seriously in there robbing the liquor store? For shit's sake! You glanced around again, then looked up at the sky and prayed for a miracle. If you got picked up, you'd be sent off to juvie and his ass was going to jail, and your CPS lady would probably end up moving you. After this long, pacing bastard or not, you were here for the long haul. No way you were leaving these Dixons. 

Especially since Merle clearly needed your help. 

You slid through the door and glanced around the gloom. A soft clink had you whipping your head to one side, hands coming up like Merle'd taught you. You moved noiselessly through the back room and onto the floor, following the faint clinking sounds through the shelves until you found Merle crouched and putting bottles into a backpack. 

"What the hell are you doing?" you hissed at him, and he jumped. 

He whirled, bottle in his hand like a weapon, and glared when he realized it was you. "What the fuck ya think you're doin' in here, girlie? Get the hell out!" 

"Me? What about you? Are you seriously stealing Wild Turkey right now?" you asked, incredulous. 

He groaned and glanced out the front windows of the place as a car drove by. "Shit," he muttered, and shoved the last bottle in his backpack. He slung the bag over his shoulder, grabbed you by the arm, and started hustling you out the back. 

"Seriously, Merle, what the fuck do you think you're doing? You're eighteen now! If you get caught, it's not juvie for you; it's prison!" you muttered to him as he pulled you toward the door. 

"Just shut up, aight?" he hissed, looking through the crack in the door before pushing you out and locking the door behind you. "Get on the bike, damn it. Get on!" 

You did as you were told, clinging to him and his backpack full of bottles as he wound down back roads toward home. He shoved you toward Daryl's window, going in through the back door himself with a muttered oath. Daryl was up when you climbed in, and he scowled at you as you grinned at him. 

"Where the fuck ya been?" he asked. 

"What the fuck was Merle doing knocking over the liquor store?" you shot back, and he gave you a confused look. 

Merle chose that moment to fling open Daryl's door and come striding in. He locked the door behind him and glared at you. "What the hell is ya problem? First off, ya walkin' alone at midnight, which sure as shit ain't safe. Then ya come sneakin' into the liquor store? What the hell?" 

Before you could speak, Daryl started in on Merle about what he was doing in the store in the first place. They went back and forth for awhile, you watching smugly, until Merle finally snapped that with him leaving next week, he wanted to make sure Will was as stocked as possible, to maybe make life a little easier for Daryl. Then, while your defenses were down as you thought about Merle leaving, both of them ganged up on you about going to the party in the first place, what had happened, and why you were walking home alone. 

You ended the argument with a sharp reminder that you still needed to sneak back into your own house, since twelve thirty was coming up real damn soon, and you needed to be back in case he tried to come in and found you gone. Both of them snarled at that, but you stepped over and kissed them each on the cheek. 

"I'll be back in a couple of hours, probably," you said with a shrug. Daryl, cheeks bright red with a blush from your kiss, shrugged and muttered a whatever. 

But he watched until you waved from in your own room.

 

 

You sent Carl back inside with a smile and a pat on his back, taking up position in the fortified perch. A quick scan with the scope showed nothing but the movement of walkers into the field, and you got annoyed all over again at the Governor's sheer assholery in breaking down the gates. 

"I mean, who the fuck thinks like that? You want to kill someone, just kill them. Don't be a dick about it," you muttered out loud to yourself, eye still to the scope. 

"You bitch even to yourself now, Nameless?" Shane's voice came from behind you, sounding amused. 

You finished your scan before glancing over your shoulder at him. "Hey. Of course. Doesn't everyone? I'm the most sympathetic audience I have," you said with a shrug. 

He huffed out a laugh and shook his head, shooting you a faintly amused smile. "You really are one crazy bitch, you know that?" 

"Did you just come out here to insult me or what, Walsh?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You've been barely speaking to me for days. What gives?" 

He sighed and came closer. "Glad you brought your damn coat this time." 

You didn't speak, taking another scan of the trees with the scope instead. If he wanted to talk, he'd fucking get around to whatever it was he wanted to say. 

"Rick's going to King County tomorrow," Shane said after a minute. "Going to try to clear out the cage the rest of the way." 

"So that's what he has in mind," you muttered as you finished your sweep. "He wants me and Dixon to stay here. Keep an eye on Merle. You convince him to take you with him?"

Shane snorted. "Naw. He wouldn't bite. Wants me in charge." 

"You tell him that's a bad idea too?" you asked, shooting him a grin to let him know you were teasing. 

He rolled his eyes at you and muttered something under his breath. He scanned out through the fence as well, standing at your side now. You shot him a look from the corner of your eye. 

"Seriously, Officer, what gives? What the fuck is going on with you?" 

He sighed and leaned his forehead against the bars. "Just had some shit to work out, Nameless. Nothin' to worry your pretty little head about." 

"Are you looking to get knocked on your ass?" you asked him, not really joking. 

He grinned. "Naw. Besides, I can take you." 

"Like hell," you muttered, glaring. "We've established twice already that I'm better than you." 

"See, that's where you're wrong. I've been distracted both times. A fair fight, where you weren't comin' at me from the side? I'd wipe the damn floor with you," he said with a smirk. 

Your lips twitched despite yourself. "Just tell me one thing, Walsh. What in my personality makes you think I'd ever fight a fair fight?" 

Shane laughed at that, and your smile grew. You'd kind of missed him over the last few days, as impossible as that had seemed when you'd first met him. 

"This is one weird fucking world, Officer," you said after a minute. 

"Think we've established that one a few times already," Shane observed, and you flipped him off as you scanned the trees again. Another walker came stumbling out of the trees toward the field, a tattered suit jacket falling off his emaciated frame. 

"Want to know what I think, Officer Walsh?" you asked as you finished your sweep and looked at him. 

He eyed you for a minute. "I don't know. Do I?" he asked, but he crossed his arms and turned so his shoulder was against the pallets and he was looking straight at you. 

"I think if it weren't for this mess, I wouldn't have gotten to know you. I think you'd have booked me; I'd have hated you; and we've have hate-fucked once and gone our separate ways," you told him with a wink and grin. 

He choked on air before he started laughing. "You think we'd have what now?" 

"Hate fucked. I told you, I don't mind. And I was carrying a lot of anger around back then," you said with a shrug, still smiling at him. 

He ran a hand through his hair and looked out the fence. "You say some weird shit, Nameless." 

"Oh come on. Like you didn't think I was hot when you pulled me over," you teased him, biting your lower lip and wiggling your eyebrows as you smirked at him. 

He glanced at you and away again as his lips twitched. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," he muttered. 

"You totally thought I was hot," you repeated smugly, setting your eye back against the scope. "We'd definitely have hate fucked." 

"Why are we talkin' about this?" he asked, laughter in his voice as well as discomfort. 

You shrugged, still scanning the trees. "Because you came out here to talk to me after ignoring me since I got back. Then you didn't talk, so I am. The point is-" you broke off for a minute, tracking back to confirm the movement in the trees was just the branches in the wind. You took your eye from the scope and smiled at Shane, who was watching you with an expression you couldn't quite read. 

"The point is," you continued, touching his arm lightly. "I never would have seen past the cop. I'm glad I got a chance to know the man," you said softly. 

Shane's eyes widened for a second before he looked away from you. 

"You're a good man, Officer Walsh. I guess I more than tolerate you, so I hope whatever it is that's wrong between us gets resolved soon. I like having you as a friend," you said seriously.

Shane swallowed hard, staring out into the night. "Give me that rifle and go inside, Nameless," he muttered finally, shoving his hand through his hair as he reached for the gun. 

You frowned at him. "Why? I can take watch." 

He shook his head, taking the gun from you. You thought about resisting, but didn't. 

"Shane-" you started, but he cut you off with a hand on your shoulder. 

"Just go inside, ok? I swear," he said, finally looking at you. "We're good, sweetheart. I promise, there's nothing wrong, alright? Go get some sleep. Daryl's going to be missin' you." 

You let out a short sigh of frustration. "Fine! Damn it, Walsh; I wish you'd just talk to me," you snapped as you turned to go. 

He reached out and grabbed your hand as you stepped away. You turned, but he didn't look at you, keeping his eyes firmly on the fence. 

"We'll talk about it soon, Nameless. Promise," he muttered, and dropped your hand. 

You sighed again and started walking. Almost like you weren't supposed to hear it, you caught his whisper as you walked away. 

"I more than tolerate you too, YN."


	73. Gambling's For Fools, But That's The Way I Like It, Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> three truths and a lie  
> mentions of past child abuse

You tried not to worry about just what the hell that might have meant as you curled up against Daryl's chest in the dark. His arm around you, you forced your eyes to close and tried to set Shane's odd behavior aside. 

Sooner than you would have imagined, you drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning, Rick, Carl, and Michonne were gearing up to head to King County. You pulled their chosen car around from the small fleet you'd ended up with, and leaned in the driver's doorway as Rick gave Judith a kiss and passed her to Shane. He gave Shane and Daryl what looked like a bunch of final instructions, clapped them each on the back, and headed your way with the other two in tow. 

You stepped out and crossed your arms, giving him a narrow-eyed look. "Be careful." 

He smirked at you and Michonne's lips twitched behind him. "I will," he said solemnly. 

"I should be going to watch your back," you tried again, for the fifth time since you'd gotten up that morning. 

"We've been over this," he said with a kind of forced tolerance. 

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, then grabbed him in a quick hug. He hugged you back, then stepped around you to get in the car. 

"Hey, Deputy," you called, and Rick paused and looked at you. "Bring me back my bike!" 

Merle's loud laugh rang out from behind you, and Carl was grinning openly from the back seat. An amused light gleamed in Rick's eyes. 

"So that's why you keep pushing to go with us," he said easily. 

You shrugged. "It's a damn nice bike." 

He rolled his eyes and ducked into the car. "Just open the gate, YN." 

 

 

You lay flat on your back on the floor, feet propped up on the edge of the bunk bed. "I'm bored," you declared. 

Daryl snorted from above you. He was perched on the bed itself, carefully checking over his current stash of bolts for the crossbow. He glanced across the room and Merle chuckled. "She held out longer'n I expected," Daryl said, smirking. 

"Yeah, she did. Never was one for just hangin' out unless she's drunk or high," Merle agreed, and you shot up your middle finger at both of them. 

"I miss my bike. I've tuned yours so damn many times there's literally nothing else for me to do on it," you complained. "Plus, you know, the whole staying inside thing. I've cleaned every gun here. Shane wouldn't let me touch his, but everybody else jumped at the offer." 

You sat up and turned around just in time to catch a look between Daryl and Merle. You frowned. "What?" 

Daryl said nothing, just shaking his head and going back to looking over his bolts. Merle met your narrowed gaze easily. 

"Nothin', baby girl. Just tryin' to think of something for ya to do to entertain yourself is all. I know!" he said, expression clearing into a fake innocence that had you instantly on edge. "We could play us a little game." 

Even Daryl looked up at that. "What the hell kinda game? Ain't like we got poker chips or nothin'." 

"Do we even have a deck of cards?" you asked, curious. Daryl shrugged. 

Merle chuckled. "We could play Three Truths and A Lie." 

"Jesus, why?" you asked. "Got some booze I don't know about?" 

He shrugged and shook his head. "Naw. Just offerin'. Either that or we could go a few rounds. Brush up on ya fightin' skills." 

You were actually seriously offended. "My God, Merle. I could whip your ass into next week, damn it." 

"Maybe. Maybe not. I been fightin' cage matches every other week all damn winter, girlie," he boasted. 

"I've been fighting zombies all damn winter, asshole," you countered with a roll of your eyes. "Come on, seriously. I'm so bored." 

"I've never tipped a cow; I've been shot; I slept with Cassie McKinley; and I ate a possum once," Daryl said abruptly. 

Both you and Merle stared at him for a second, then you grinned. "I had Cassie McKinley as a lab partner once, idiot. You never did more than kiss her, I'd swear to it." 

Daryl shrugged, grinning at you. "You win." 

You sat forward, crossing your legs as your eyes narrowed. "I've got a tattoo on my ass; I met Jimmy Page; I can drive a stick; and I know Latin." 

"When the fuck ya meet Jimmy Page?" Merle asked, eyes wide. 

Daryl frowned at him. "How the hell do ya know she has a tattoo on her ass?" 

"Who ya think drove her home after? Think she sat a bike with fresh ink on her posterior?" 

You started laughing. "Can we stop talking about my ass now? I never met Page. That would have been the headlining story of my life to everyone I've ever met." 

They both stared at you, then Merle spoke up, confused. "I've seen ya drive a damn stick, but you're tryin' to tell me ya know Latin?" 

You shrugged easily. "Enough to preform an exorcism and a couple of hexes, yeah." 

"Why the fuck ya learn that shit?" Daryl asked, eyebrows raised. "And when?" 

"As a teenager. So I could freak my foster sister out," you answered. You smirked, remembering the look on her perfect face. "Worth the bruises," you muttered.   
Daryl and Merle both scowled. 

You shrugged. "What?" 

"My turn," Merle said, and thought for a minute. "Aight. I like white wine; I ain't never broken a single bone in my body; I had a foursome with a couple of hotties from Delirium; and I used to go get me one of them pedicures every few months." 

You smirked even as Daryl scoffed and declared Merle had never had a pedicure in his life. "Wrong, Dixon. He did not have a foursome with girls from Delirium," you told Merle firmly, and grinned at Daryl. "They were from Deviant." 

Merle laughed long and loud at the look on Daryl's face. "Aww, little brother. Them girls lived up to the name of that place, too," he started, and Daryl shook his head. 

"Shut up, man. Ain't nobody wants to hear that shit," he interrupted. "I'll go again." He chewed on his fingernail for a minute and then grunted. "I ain't never been to juvie; I know every word to 'Killer Queen'; I got my GED; and I got my ear pierced." 

You snorted. "Too easy. You hate all Queen." 

"Yeah, the damn earring made ya look like a redneck pirate," Merle muttered. 

Daryl scowled. "How the hell'd ya know that? Thought I'd get you on that one." 

"Baby girl texted me a picture two minutes after ya did it, idiot," Merle said with a grin. Daryl shot you a betrayed look as you laughed.

"Sorry, Dixon. I couldn't help it," you told him, leaning over to kiss him apologetically. "Me again?" 

"Hate to break up the party, you three, but Shane asked me to find YN," Maggie said, voice sounding amused. 

You looked over at her and smiled. "Here I am. What's up?" 

She shrugged. "Shane just said he needed help with something. He's outside, by the cars." 

"Huh. Alright." You climbed to your feet and caught another look between Daryl and Merle. "Oh, settle down, boys. I've been handling myself for years. I'll be fine." 

You bent over and kissed Daryl firmly. "Be right back, babe. Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone; either of you." 

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," Daryl muttered. "Be careful, baby." 

You waved that off as you snagged your jacket and swung out of the cell, whistling the Clash under your breath as you headed out. You'd had "Police On My Back" stuck in your head since you'd woken up that morning, and it just wasn't going anywhere. Appropriate, you guessed, given your currently kept company. 

 

 

"Yo, Walsh, what's up?" you called as you ducked around the Dodge, trailing your fingers over the dirt with a grimace. 

"Keep it down, Nameless," he snapped back, staring through the binoculars at something beyond the fence. "We got us a walker problem." 

"So why the hell are we not turning out in force to handle it?" you asked, squinting over his shoulder to try and figure out just what the problem was. Yes, there were walkers. They tended to be everywhere.

Shane handed you the binoculars. "We got a breach. We thought we'd handled it, but they're swarming the place again. Looks like they broke down the barricade we put up." 

You looked through and found what he was talking about. Sure enough, there it was- broken barricade. Walkers coming in. "Ok. So, my question still stands?" you said, adding the question mark to the end of your sentence. 

He shrugged. "Wanted to handle it quietly. Glenn needs more rest even if he won't admit it, and someone needs to keep an eye on Merle. So, you and me. We got this." 

You frowned at him. "We could just bring Merle with us, you know. If three is better than two, four is better than three." 

"Naw. Don't trust him at my back. Not if I got other options." 

"Shane, your other option is the two of us doing something stupid and alone. How is that better?" you asked bluntly. 

He grinned at you. "Aren't you bored?" he asked with a lift of his eyebrows. "Come on, girl. We got this." 

He slapped you on the back once and headed toward the entrance to the boiler block. "We go down from the inside. Plenty of cover and places to hide if we get in a pinch. We'll have it handled in no time." 

"This is a damn stupid idea, Walsh," you complained, but you were following him already. God, he was right. You were bored. It'd been ages since you did something stupid, and you were itching for a little action anyway. Sitting around and waiting was driving you a little crazy. 

Shane was grinning at you. He had his shotgun and one of the rifles in his hands, and he tossed the rifle to you. "I know." 

"Rick is going to kill us both. Shit, Daryl's going to kill us both," you muttered, but you were already checking the rifle and slinging it over your shoulder as you pulled out your handgun and checked it. 

Shane shrugged. "Not if we do it right. Like that time with that big ass fucker, the sumo wrestler." 

"Lumberjack," you corrected him with a grin. "And yeah. Alright, asshole. Let's do this." 

"There's my crazy criminal," he muttered, and followed you down into the dark hallways.


	74. Dancing With Mr. D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

It started out easy enough, both of you using your big ass knives instead of your guns, with no more than three zombies at a time coming at you. Hell, you were halfway to the back entrance and you weren't even breathing hard. 

"Ok, I'm starting to think this wasn't such a dumb idea after all," you whispered to Shane. 

He chuckled as he eased around the next corner. "Told you we could handle it." 

"Yeah," you agreed. You moved forward together, considerably more relaxed than when you'd first entered the block. "So, why the sudden attitude change?" 

"What are you talkin' about?" he asked, and you snorted. After a second, he sighed. "Fair enough, Nameless. I'm sorry." 

You stopped walking and looked at him. "Thanks, but seriously. We've been through some shit, Shane. I want to know what I did to make you so angry." 

He sighed, rubbing a bloody hand over his hair. You smirked at him but didn't say anything. It'd be more fun to let him find out later. 

"You didn't do anything, YN," he said seriously. "I mean it. You didn't. I- Look, after Lori? I was messed up. Then you didn't come back and Rick had his Girl, Interrupted moment-" 

"Good reference," you muttered. 

He smirked at you. "Anyway. It felt like everybody I cared about was gone. I get a little-" he shook his head and rubbed his hand through his hair again, then grimaced at it. You laughed and he shot you an annoyed look. "Really? Couldn't have said anything?" 

You shrugged. "Shit, Officer, how many times do I have to tell you about that tell of yours? Think you'd have figured it out by now, man." 

He rolled his eyes. "I'm tryin' to talk to you here, girl." 

"And you're doing a stellar job of it too, Walsh, really. Top notch," you told him with a smile, and then took pity on him. "Apology accepted, Shane. I get it." You stepped close and put a hand on his arm, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. 

That was all it was, and all it was supposed to be. But it wasn't. Shane turned as your lips brushed his cheek and your lips hit his instead. 

You started to laugh it off as bad timing, but he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you back to him, kissing you again, hard. You froze for an instant, eyes wide open as you tried to figure out just what the hell was going on. 

And in that moment, you saw them coming. 

 

 

The drunk asshole had been harassing you from the minute you set foot in the place, and frankly, you were getting sick of it. 

"Hey, Billy," you called, leaning over the bar to wave down to him. He jerked his chin in acknowledgement, but be was putting orders in the computer and you knew it'd be a minute before you could pay your tab and head out. 

A hand grabbed your ass and you sighed. 

"That is so not a good idea, brother," the man beside you muttered, scooting as far away as possible. 

You looked at the man. "Did nobody warn this fool?" you asked conversationally. 

"I'm only a fool for you, honey," the drunk asshole slurred, sliding his hand from your ass to wrap around your waist as you straightened up slowly. 

"Dude, that is cheesy and inaccurate," you ground out through clenched teeth. "You have ten seconds to get your damn hands off me." 

"Aww, c'mon, honey. We've been havin' fun all night!" 

You sighed as the crack of a fist on a jaw resounded from behind you and the arm disappeared from your waist. 

"I warned you," you muttered, and turned to pull Daryl off the damn fool. 

 

You shoved at Shane's shoulders in a panic, and he let you go so fast you staggered back. He immediately turned away with his eyes closed, holding up a hand as you started to speak. 

"Shit, I'm sorry," he started. "I'm sor-"

"Zombies, Shane!" you snapped, aiming the rifle behind his head and pulling the trigger. 

He whirled and saw the oncoming horde in the hallway. "Oh fuck," he muttered. "Fall back!" 

"You think, asshole?" you snapped, already moving. "There's so damn many of them, they're pushing each other!" 

One of the lead ones was knocked over by one behind it even as you spoke, and the others trampled it down as the herd came boiling steadily forward. Both of you had your weapons out and were falling back through the tunnels briskly. 

And then more came from another side. 

"Motherfucker," you declared calmly, tone belying the screaming inside you. "Officer-" 

"I see 'em. Go on, I'll cover you," he snapped, firing three times in rapid succession. 

You didn't bother to respond to that asinine suggestion, just grabbing him by the back of the shirt and tugging him down a side hallway. He came with you, and you'd learned your lesson. You turned so your back was pressed against his and covered the front while he covered the rear. 

"So, this is back to being a stupid idea," you said conversationally, choosing to ignore whatever the fuck had been happening right before this latest George Romero dreamscape. 

He grunted at you. "Yeah. Bitch." 

"Just because you can't handle being told you're wrong doesn't make me a bitch," you snapped back. "Fuck. More of them, right side." 

"Exit? Coming up fast back here," he said over the sound of both of your guns. 

"Go left?" you suggested caustically, since there were really only the three options: right into walkers, backward into walkers, or left into currently no walkers. 

You went left. 

 

 

"You know, Walsh, I'm starting to think it's you," you said as you shot down another dead asshole who got to close. 

"What's me?" 

"The problem. Every time I'm in a scrap like this, it seems to be with you," you grunted. "Fuck!" 

"Shit. Maybe it's you. I never got into shit like this before I started hanging out with you, Nameless," he countered. 

You sighed as you ducked down another hallway. "Look, this is insane. Where the fuck are they all coming from? On my mark, break left. We're going to have to fight our way through a few, but I think we can make it." 

"How many's a few?" 

You hesitated. "Do you trust me, Walsh?" 

"Not in the least. Tell me when." The air of resignation in his tone made you chuckle even as you fired once, twice, three times. 

There was your hole. "Now!" You snapped, and you charged. Shane came right on your heels. 

 

 

Ok, there were more than a few. But there were fewer of them there than you'd seen so far, and that was what mattered, really. You needed a hole, a break in the pattern, and this was the best you'd gotten. 

It didn't mean you weren't still in deep shit, though. It didn't take lone before you dropped the rifle and grabbed your knife back out, because quarters were too tight and there were just too damn many of them. You started hacking and slashing and praying, yelling to Shane as you got separated from him after a few minutes. 

"Walsh! You good?" you yelled, grappling with one dead fuck in your arms while you kicked another back urgently. You shoved your arm in between the teeth of the one in front of you, giving him the leather of your jacket to bite on while you got your other hand loose and stabbed the one you'd had to kick backward. 

Silence answered you. Well, silence and the moans and groans of the dead, but they didn't count. 

Your pulse started pounding in your ears and fear trickled its way down your spine. Or maybe that was walker blood. You dropped the zombie on your arm with a knife straight through the top of the brain and shook him backwards off your arm. You'd gotten about five seconds of breathing space, but there were more coming at you from either side. 

"Where the fuck are you coming from?!" you yelled at the walkers as you started falling back again. "Damn it, Shane! Answer me! Shane!" you yelled frantically. 

But there was nothing, and you had to keep moving, or you'd be dead. 

 

 

Three turns and a handful of walking dead pricks later, you realized that in addition to being constantly surrounded by zombies and having no idea if Shane was even still alive, you were also completely and hopelessly lost. 

"Well, this isn't good," you muttered to yourself, slowing from the jog you'd been maintaining to try to orient yourself. You'd killed or lost the last round of walkers you'd run into, but at this point you had a feeling you were going in circles. That wasn't good for your survival prospects, so you needed to get your shit together and figure out where to go. 

A moment's consideration had you realizing there was no figuring it out. You sighed and picked a direction. "Oh yeah. This is how I die. Doing something stupid and reckless, and getting killed for it in the most asinine way fucking possible. Starvation from being lost in this goddamn abyss, or getting my ass bit because I'm lost. Smooth move, Nameless. Daryl's going to kill you if you make it out of this one." 

You were still talking to yourself when you came around another corner and face to face with the crumbled remains of a wall, a handful of walkers, and the broken barricade. 

You actually laughed with relief, before you realized Shane was probably dead and if not was relying on you to get your ass back inside and bring down the cavalry. 

"Fuck," you muttered for what was probably the thousandth time, and got busy killing more zombies.

 

 

The plan was to work your way around to the front and get let in by whoever was on watch. Then you'd roll back down with backup this time, save Walsh, wipe out the remaining walkers, and fix the breech. 

That was the plan. 

The plan did not include being driven out further into the woods than you'd intended by a wandering herd of the dead, getting a massive cut on your cheek from running face first into an outstretched branch, or whatever it was that had slammed into the back of your head and led to you being blindfolded, bound, and gagged. It did not include the low murmur of voices you didn't recognize reporting over a radio that they'd caught one and were bringing her back for the Governor or the jostling that indicated you were in the back of a moving vehicle. 

Son of a bitch, the Dixon boys were going to kill you for sure.


	75. Valhalla, I Am Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

The blindfold finally came off and you fixed the bored expression in your eyes immediately. The asshole in front of you with a gun looked vaguely familiar, you thought absently. You took a quick look around the room and figured out you were in the same place Maggie and Glenn had been held. 

Goody. 

The gag was still in place and your hands were still bound, but it wasn't with a zip tie this time. They'd used plain old rope, and that gave you a fighting chance. You twisted your wrists to test the knots. 

Well, that was some bullshit, you thought with a mental roll of your eyes. Whoever'd tied them had done a damn good job. You weren't saying you couldn't get them loose; you were just saying it was going to take you a hot minute. 

The door opened and the asshole in front of you straightened up and stepped back. 

"Thank you, Martinez," the Governor said as he came into the room and looked at you. He had a nifty eye patch now, you noticed, instead of the bloody bandage you'd last seen. 

Ah. Martinez, you realized. The one who'd knocked you over the head a couple times in that arena. Hail, hail, the gang's all here. 

This asshole really should take the gag out so you could share your sarcastic commentary with him. It was pretty damn good. 

"Well, well. If it isn't Merle's little sister," the Governor said softly. You rolled your eyes and mumbled 'sister in law' around the gag. He frowned but didn't make a move toward you. He simply stared. 

Then the door banged open again and in came Andrea. You raised an eyebrow at her as she looked from you to him. The Governor's face immediately became annoyed. 

"Andrea. What are you doing in here?" 

"I heard they found someone. I wanted to see who it was. They're my friends, Philip," she said. 

He looked from you to her. "Even this one?" 

Well, you were interested in that as well. Your other eyebrow climbed to meet the one you'd already lifted and you raised your shoulders at her in a shrug. Martinez' lips twitched as he tried not to grin at your antics. 

Andrea sighed and glanced at you again before crossing her arms. "We aren't close, but yes. She's my friend. At the very least, she's friends with someone who is important to me." 

You frowned, trying to figure out who the fuck that might be, when it hit you. Shane. Goddamn it. 

Worry and grief stabbed into you like a gut punch and you flinched. She noticed and frowned. 

"What? Is Shane alright?" 

You met her eyes and shrugged, then mumbled around the gag that you didn't know. 

"Is the gag really necessary, Philip?" she asked in exasperation, and crossed the room to remove it before the Governor could do or say anything. He and Martinez exchanged a look behind Andrea's back as you worked your jaw and licked your lips, trying to get some moisture back in your mouth. 

As soon as you could speak, you ignored Andrea and focused on the one-eyed asshole. "You look like a damn pirate," you informed him with a smirk. "In case Andrea forgot to pass on the message, Philip, Daryl says he's coming for your other eye." 

The Governor scowled and took a step toward you, but you weren't done. You let the amused look fade from your eyes, but your lips turned up in a small, cold smile. 

"Me? I've got something else in mind. Nameless have rules about what you did to Maggie. I'll be enforcing them just as soon as I possibly can." 

Martinez looked at the Governor's stiff back as he paused, and Andrea looked back and forth between you and him with her brow furrowed in confusion. 

"Philip, what's she talking about?" she asked. Did she seriously not know? Still? Jesus.

The Governor glared at you for a minute longer, then grabbed Andrea's arm and started hustling her out the door. She looked back at you, still asking him what you'd meant as she was dragged along. 

Martinez was the last to leave, pushing off from where he'd leaned against the wall while they spoke to you. He looked at you and smirked. "I like you, girl. You got a smart mouth. Don't use it to get yourself in too much trouble," he offered as he stepped out the door and pulled it firmly closed behind him. 

You glanced around the barren, now-empty room and sighed. "Daryl's going to fucking kill me," you muttered again. 

 

 

 

You started working at the ropes, twisting and pulling your hands to loosen the knots. It was a pain in the ass, and it wasn't getting you very far very quickly, but hey. It was something. 

If you'd thought you were bored in the prison waiting for Rick to get back, this was an entirely new level of hell. You stared at everything you thought could possibly aid you in an escape, but for the love of God, the room was empty. There was you, the chair your ass was sitting on, the table, and the light hanging from the ceiling. That was it. 

Eventually you propped your feet up on the table, kept your steady wrist twisting despite the growing rope burn on your hands, and started singing your way through every Led Zepplin song you could think of. 

You were in the middle of 'Immigrant Song'- and really getting into it, too- when the door banged open and Martinez came in, his eyes looking crazed. He stalked to you without saying a word, grabbed the gag around your neck, and stuffed it back into your mouth as you protested. 

"Come on, man, really? I've got like no other source of entertainment in here!" you mumbled around the thing, annoyed.

He glared at you. "Shut the hell up! For the love of God!" 

Then he strode right back out, muttering under his breath. You grinned around the gag and chuckled to yourself. 

 

 

You'd been left to cool your heels in the interrogation room for just long enough to be getting anxious. So you decided to do something obnoxious; irritate the shit out of these guys for letting you sweat. 

You provided whoever was behind the two-way mirror with a loud, detailed, and- in your opinion at least- highly entertaining rendition of 'Bohemian Rhapsody', complete with you singing the guitar solos. 

You didn't even make it through all the 'Galileo's before the door was opening and a harried looking detective strode through.

"Ma'am," the detective began. "Please, sit down. We'd like to ask you a few questions about-" 

"Am I under arrest?" you cut the man off abruptly. 

He looked annoyed. You smirked. Annoyed and harried detectives were your favorites. 

"No, ma'am, you're not under arrest. We're just interviewing you in regards to some missing persons last seen with members of your club." 

You leaned forward and laced your fingers together. "So I can leave whenever I want?"

"Yes, ma'am, but first we need to ask you some questions-" 

"Nope," you said cheerfully, rising and heading out the door. "You really don't. Peace out, bitches." 

You walked out, tossing a peace sign over your shoulder and winking at the cute uniform standing outside the door. His eyes flashed down your body and back to your face like he couldn't help himself, and you grinned. You threw an extra swing to your hips as you headed toward the doors. 

 

 

Hours had to have passed by now. Though with the level of bored you were, it could have been minutes. Damn it, there was nothing to do but wiggle your way out of some ropes, and your progress on that had slowed considerably as it became too painful to twist your wrists around. 

You were pretty sure they were bleeding at this point. 

If you were certain of anything, it was that you did not want to be in here for long enough for the Governor to decide what to do with you, so you sucked it up and twisted again, grunting through the pain. You didn't want to linger for long enough for Daryl and the others to attempt another rescue, either. They'd undoubtedly beefed up security, and any rescue attempt would end in more people being captured or killed. 

You stopped everything as another wave of pain swept through you, but this one wasn't from your hands. 

Shane. Had he made it out? You hated that you didn't know if he'd even been alive when you'd be separated. If he was, how long had he been down there before the others realized the two of you were missing? 

Had they even realized it? 

Shit. You closed your eyes and tried to swallow against the lump in your throat at the thought of the officer fighting for his life and dying alone down there in those dark hallways. You were supposed to watch his back, damn it. You were his friend, and you'd left him there and gotten yourself captured. And now he'd pay the price. 

Fuck. 

The door slammed open again as you tried to keep the tears from falling, but you didn't really succeed. The footsteps paused, and Andrea's voice called your name softly. 

You snapped your head up and glared at her. She stood, hesitating, holding a glass of water. 

"Are you alright?" she asked, and you gave her a 'bitch, are you serious' look. She sighed and shook her head as she started back toward you. "That's stupid. Of course you're not alright. Look, I brought you some water. I'm going to take the gag out and help you drink it. I'd have brought you something to eat, but Philip says I'm not allowed to untie your hands. He'll feed you before you leave for the meeting in a few hours." 

You perked up at that. What meeting was she talking about? She pulled the gag out and you tried to speak, but your mouth was too dry. She held up the glass of water, and you drank greedily through the straw. When you'd drained the whole thing, you looked up at her and tried again. 

"What meeting? How long have I been here?" you asked urgently. 

She sighed. "You've been here overnight. I arranged a sit down between Rick and Philip for a few hours from now. He's going to bring you along, return you as a sign of good faith." 

You scoffed at that. "You're naive, Andrea. Wake up and see who he really is." 

"I do see who he really is. He'll keep his word," she said stiffly, rising. "I have to put the gag back in before I leave."


	76. Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-Cherry Bomb!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Your wrists were definitely bleeding now, but you were fine with it. You set your jaw and twisted one last time, and you were free. Between the blood greasing your wrists and the literal hours working at the knots, you managed to slip your hands out. 

Your shoulders ached from being held in the position they'd been in for so long, especially the one you'd dislocated a few times over the years. You rolled the stiffness from them and pulled the gag from your mouth. 

It truly tasted disgusting. 

You took a look at your wrists and sighed. That shit didn't look good. Well, at least you were free. Next step, getting out of this room. 

You rose and took a couple of cautious steps. Sitting for hours hadn't done your exhausted body and favors after the fight in the boiler block, and every muscle in your body was screeching at you. Plus, there was the cut on your cheek and the big-ass bruise on the back of your head from where you'd gotten knocked out, however that had happened. You still weren't entirely sure. 

Once you were certain you could move around without creaking, screaming, or weeping, you started investigating the corners of the room carefully. You absolutely did not believe that you'd be going to this meeting Andrea had set up, but you also didn't know how long you might have until someone stuck their head in the room to check on you again. You needed to be ready for whenever that might be. 

You were poking and prodding at the metal panels that made up the wall, and you grinned when you found a loose one. Perfect. You could work with that. Hopefully. 

A quick look at the screws and bolts used to hold the thing in place had you thinking about creative ways to deal with those. What you wouldn't have given for your handy-dandy tool set. As is, all you had was what you had on you right now. 

They'd taken your gun and your knife- no surprise- but left you your empty holster, your boots, your jacket, your vest, and- 

You grinned. And your belt. 

You pulled it off and looked at the buckle. It wasn't the best idea you'd ever had, or the best tool in the world, but desperation makes inventors of everyone. You'd access your inner MacGyver and do your best here. 

 

 

Sneaking through a town that wanted to kill you in broad daylight was a new experience in terror, but hey. Anything you walk away from, right? 

And somehow, you'd walked away from that one. Well, sneaked away. Whatever. 

You made it into the trees around the town, wondering just how in the hell you were going to cover all the ground between you and home without a weapon of any kind. Finally, you snagged a fairly substantial branch you found on the ground, snapped it so the top was as pointed as you could get it, and shrugged. 

"That'll do, pig. That'll do," you muttered, and started walking again. 

 

 

The first bit was easy. You hid from the one or two zombies you saw and waited for them to pass. Then you couldn't do that anymore, and you'd taken down a couple of them. 

Problem was, you were running on no rest, had already had a massive battle, your wrists were still trickling blood in a way that you were going to be worried about very, very soon, and all you had was a pointy stick. The pointy stick was better than nothing, but only by a very slim margin. Things were looking grim. 

You had to do something about the wrists, but all you really had was a t shirt under your jacket and vest. You sighed and stopped, leaning the stick against the tree and slipping the jacket off. You pulled your shirt off next and tore it in half- it didn't take much; the thing was threadbare as all hell- and then thought about what in the world to do next. 

You leaned your back against the trunk of the tree and slid down it to bump to a seat on the ground, laying one strip of shirt across your knees and putting your wrist in the center of it. Then you tried to twist your hand around to help you wrap the shirt tightly around your wrist, but it was no fucking use. 

"Damn it," you muttered as you lost your grip on the fabric again. It didn't help that your hands were starting to shake a little. "Son of a bitch," you snapped again, loudly. Too loudly. 

There was a rustling from behind you, and you thunked your head back against the trunk of the tree with a sigh. You staggered to your feet, grabbing your jacket and pulling it on over your bra so your body had at least some measure of protection, and snatched up your stick. 

You braced yourself and turned toward the sounds, ready to kick some zombie ass and then get back to trying to keep yourself from passing out from blood loss. The rustling came closer, and then- 

You dropped the stick and stared. 

 

 

"Walsh?" you whispered in disbelief. "Am I- motherfucker, I've lost more blood than I thought. If you're a walker, go ahead and eat me. Frankly, I'm too tired to deal with this shit anymore." 

Shane, or your hallucination of Shane that was probably just some generic dead zombie who was going to use you as a chew toy any minute now, had frozen the same as you. Now he scowled, dropped his shotgun, and was striding toward you rapidly. 

When he reached you, you closed your eyes and waited for the bite. 

What you got instead was an impossibly tight hug, one hand in your hair and the other grabbing a handful of your jacket in the center of your back. 

"Hey, watch the vest," you muttered as you were crushed against Shane's shoulder. You still weren't sure you weren't about to be munched on, but you closed your eyes all the same. You were tired, damn it, and you honestly didn't know if you could deal with him being a hallucination. "If you're going to disappear or eat me, just get it over with." 

"Would you shut the fuck up, you crazy criminal?" Shane's voice was thick and sharp with unshed tears, muffled as his head dropped to your shoulder. "Goddamn it, Nameless." 

Oh. Well. As he yanked back to look at you closely, you started to think that maybe he was real after all 

"What the fuck happened to you? Did that bastard- fuck, your wrists are bleeding," Shane growled. 

You glanced down at them. "Yeah. I was trying to wrap them up when I heard- well, I guess it was you. If you're real and not a figment of my guilt-ridden imagination, do you want to help me with that?"

He shook his head at you and shoved his hand through his hair. "Shit." 

You grinned at him a little crazily as you started to pull off your jacket again. "I've got the pieces of my shirt on the ground right there. Give me a hand, Officer." 

 

 

Shane's hands were gentle as he wrapped the tattered half of your shirt around your torn-up wrist. His jaw was tight and he hadn't said a word for several minutes. He'd pulled off the flannel he'd had layered over his own shirt and handed it to you before he snatched up your makeshift bandages. You'd shoved your arms through the sleeves, buttoned one button, and sunk to the ground. One wrist was already bandaged and now he was finishing up the other one. 

When he was done, he held your wrist in his hand and stared at the tree behind your head for a long moment. 

"Shane?" you asked after a pause. "You ok, man?" 

"Am I ok?" he exploded, glaring at you as his fingers tightened on your arm. "Are you fucking kidding me?" 

"Well, I wasn't," you said slowly. "Look, man, I'm not completely convinced I haven't caught Rick's brand of crazy and am hallucinating you right now. So let's keep this conversation as clear and easy to follow as possible, if you don't mind." 

He snorted, finally dropping your arm and running his hand over his hair again. "Shit, Nameless. You gave us a scare when we couldn't fucking find you. Daryl about killed me." 

"That who gave you the black eye?" you asked with a nod toward the massive shiner Shane was rocking. 

He grunted. "Actually, that was Merle. Daryl tried to shoot me. Merle stopped him, then decked me instead." 

Your lips twitched. "Yeah, they're going to kill me when we get back, aren't they?" 

"I seriously doubt that," Shane muttered. He touched your cheek just under the cut and you shrugged.

"That's no big deal. Ran into a branch. Where are the Dixon boys?" you asked suddenly. "For that matter, what the hell are you doing out here alone? How'd you make it out of that nightmare of idiocy we got ourselves into?" 

He shook his head with a scoff, fingers falling from your cheek reluctantly. "Bloody, that's how. We got separated, and I just- shit. I pulled a Rick myself, Nameless. Just went ape on those bastards, tryin' to find you. When I couldn't, I made my way back up, got some backup, and headed back down. We picked up your trail outside and Dixon found where there'd been a camp. We hauled ass back home and got there right as Rick pulled up. We were getting organized to head after you when Andrea shows up, tells us you're safe with goddamn Philip-" he spat the name with a look of pure hatred, "- and he'd bring you to a sit down tomorrow as a 'show of good faith'." 

He scoffed and shook his head. "Rick took Daryl and Merle with him. He told me to stay at home, but- I know what that bastard did to Maggie. I didn't trust him to bring you to that damn meeting. Looks like I was right," he added with a grim look at you. 

You snorted and closed your eyes. "Yeah, Andrea told me I'd be going and I told her she was an idiot. Broke out through a loose panel I found, and I've been running ever since. Shit, I'm exhausted. Hope you've got a car somewhere close, Officer, because I can tell you right now, I'm not going very far very quickly." 

"Yeah, girl, I got you," he muttered. You opened your eyes to find him staring at you. He offered you a faint, twisted smile. "Thought I'd lost you, criminal." 

"Right back at you, Officer," you said, reaching for his hand. He grabbed on and you squeezed his fingers as your eyes filled. "Thought you were dead in the dark somewhere, and it was my fault." 

"Why the fuck would it be your fault?" he snapped, annoyance in his eyes as well as that curious mix of relief, fear, and something else. "It was my damn idea to go down there with just the two of us." 

"I asked you to trust me. Then I lost you. I'm supposed to watch people's backs," you said with a shrug. 

He snorted. "Bullshit." 

You opened your mouth to argue the point when you heard another rustle in the trees. "Shit. Time to go," you muttered instead. 

Shane helped you to your feet and you pulled your jacket on over Shane's shirt, then picked up your pointy stick. He scoffed and pulled a gun from his waistband, handing it to you. You took it with a grin and shoved it into your thigh holster as he fished a knife from his pocket and tossed it to you as well. Then he bent and scooped up his shotgun, motioning you toward the trees in the direction he'd come as the rustling grew closer.


	77. Everybody Wants You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> fluff alert

True to his word, Shane had a vehicle stashed not too far from where he'd found you. Sadly, not too far was still damn far enough considering the fun new level of exhaustion you were reaching. 

By the time you got there, Shane had an arm around your waist to keep you upright, and you were leaning on him a little more firmly than you really wanted to admit. 

"Come on, Nameless, keep it together for me," he muttered at you as your eyes drifted closed. You jerked back upright, scowled, and slapped yourself hard across the face. 

"Oh, fuck!" You yelped when you hit the cheek you'd sliced open. "Goddamn it." 

"Idiot." Shane's tone said clearly that he was laughing at you. 

You rolled your eyes and made a face. "Yeah, well, I'm awake, aren't I?" 

And then of course, you tripped over a plant or stick or shit, maybe just over nothing. Shane's arm around you was all that kept you from hitting the ground face-first, and you knew it as well as he did. He said nothing as you caught your balance, but you saw the amused look he shot out of the corner of his eye.

"Motherfucker," you sighed absently. "I'm already tired of this shit." 

"Yeah, hauling your annoying ass around isn't exactly making my day either, girl." 

You responded without thinking. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You like my ass." 

Awkward silence descended as you both deliberately didn't mention the incident that had occurred right before the running and the zombie killing. Luckily, Shane lead you through a gap between the trees, and there, blessedly, was the road and a familiar truck. 

"Thank God," you muttered. 

 

 

You couldn't be entirely certain, but it was pretty safe to say you fell asleep about two minutes after Shane cranked the engine on the truck. 

"Alright, Nameless," he said as he did. "We're gonna take a long, twisty path to get there. He has the main roads covered, so we have to go at it from the side, as it were." 

Your eyes were already closed. "Whatever you say, Officer," you muttered. 

You heard him laugh but didn't even try to pry open your eyes. "How the hell were you planning on getting all the way back on foot, girl?" 

You shrugged. "Damn if I know. It's not like I was exactly planning this entire event, Walsh." 

"I'll say," he muttered, and you tried to flip him off. You did. The command left your brain, but somehow, it just didn't quite reach your hand. 

 

 

"Shane, what the hell?" 

Maggie's voice cut through the psychedelic landscape you were dream-biking your way through, but since you'd only just closed your eyes a minute ago, you ignored her and focused on leaning into the next curve in the road you were on. The fact that it seemed to be made of chocolate was irrelevant, in your opinion. 

"Shh!" Shane hissed. "She's fine, just exhausted. Let her sleep. They back yet?" 

"No," Maggie's voice was softer now. "Shane." 

"What?" 

"What are you doin'? She's-" 

"She fell asleep, Maggie. What do you want me to do, shove her off me? Shit. Just- hang on. Gonna get her inside, and get your dad to take a look at her wrists." 

You finally gave up on riding the chocolate road any further and groaned. "Damn it, you two. I was dreaming. It involved chocolate." 

"Sorry, girl," Shane said, voice sounding amused. "We're home, though. Wanna sit up so I can get out?" 

You pried your eyes open and realized you were laying against his side, his arm draped around you. "Ugh. Sorry, Walsh," you muttered, pushing yourself upright. 

He shrugged as you rubbed your eyes and yawned. "No worries. You needed the sleep. Come on, let's get you checked out by Hershel before Dixon and Merle get back." 

Maggie was giving Shane a long look, eyes clearly saying she didn't believe his casual attitude. From the way his eyes slid from hers, you got the feeling he didn't much believe it himself. 

You fought back the urge to sigh. Seemed you and the officer were going to need to have a talk before too much longer. 

 

 

"Well, I think you'll be alright, YN," Hershel declared as he wrapped clean bandages around your wrists. He'd checked both, cleaned them gently, and asked some probing questions about why you were wearing Shane's shirt. 

When you'd told him you'd ripped your own in half to stop the bleeding on your wrists, both he and Maggie, who'd been hovering in the doorway with a grim look in her eyes, had relaxed. 

You'd been thoroughly hugged by Glenn, Carol, and Beth on the way in, and now as Hershel patted the back of your hand, you were thinking about stretching out and going back to sleep. First, though, you had a few probing questions of your own. 

And you needed something to eat, damn it. 

"So, what's been happening around here? Did that breach get fixed? Shane said something while we were making our way back, but to be honest I wasn't exactly doing that great so I don't really remember." 

"The breach is fixed," Hershel answered. "The boiler block seems to be cleaned out again. You and Shane shouldn't have gone down there alone." 

You snorted. "You don't have to tell me that. I'm aware that it was a stupid decision." 

"Well, as long as you're aware," Hershel said, eyes dancing and a faint smile on his lips. "Andrea assured us you were being taken care of and that the Governor would bring you to this meeting she arranged. Rick convinced your Dixon boys to go with him; that Andrea wouldn't lie to us about something like that. I see that we were all wrong." 

You shook your head, leaning against the headboard. "I don't think she lied. I think he did. He never intended to take me with him. I was too much of a bargaining chip. I mean, Daryl and Merle would-" 

"YN!" 

Your eyes, which had been falling closed against your will, popped open at the sound of Daryl's voice. 

Hershel smiled. "Well, that's my cue to leave, sweetheart. Glad you're back safely." He rose and gathered his crutches as running footsteps approached. 

Daryl appeared in the door way as you pulled yourself to your feet as well. He fidgeted as Hershel swung out of the room, then was glaring at you with his arms crossed. You lifted your eyebrows at him and waited. 

"What the fuck do ya think ya were doin'?" he snarled. 

You grinned. "I love you too, Daryl." 

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "Damn it, baby," he whispered, and crossed the cell to you in two strides. 

You fell into him before he really even reached for you, heaving a long sigh as his arms locked around you. His hand slid up your back to settle on your neck as he pressed his cheek to the top of your head. 

Neither of you spoke for a few long moments as you listened to the racing of his heart gradually start to slow. 

"Sorry, Dixon," you whispered. 

"Shut up." 

You pushed back just enough to look at him, keeping your arms wrapped around him. "No, really. I am. It was stupid and reckless and I got myself captured and almost got Shane killed. I'm sorry." 

"Shane almost got his own damn self killed," Daryl snapped, eyes flashing. "It was his shitty idea in the first place. So stop it. Ya aight? Ya hurt? He said ya wrists were messed up. Let me see." He let go of you, hands sliding down your arms and tugging until he hand your wrists cupped in his hands. 

"Hershel just put a decent bandage on them, Daryl. I'm fine. Had to twist my way out of ropes; that's all." 

Daryl ran his thumbs lightly over the bandages, then brought your wrists to his lips one at a time. You couldn't help the ridiculous smile you could feel growing at that simple little gesture. He cupped your chin in his hand then and turned your face so he could see your cheek. You rolled your eyes. 

"That was my own dumb fault. I was running and ran straight into the path of very sharp branch," you informed him, but you leaned into his touch. He snorted, shaking his head at you. 

"Ya sure you're aight?" he asked seriously, sliding his hand from your chin to your uncut cheek. 

You nodded and pressed a kiss to his palm. "I'm fine. Just exhausted, I promise. Don't kill Shane." 

His eyes flashed again. "I ain't guaranteein' that, baby." 

You grabbed his wrist and waited until the stubborn look in his eyes faded. "I mean it. It's not his fault. Sure, his dumbass idea, but I agreed to it. And besides, he rescued me." 

"Merle and I shoulda been there," Daryl snarled, eyes flashing with anger again. "That bitch said he was bringin' ya to that damn summit she arranged. I told Rick it was bullshit." 

You shrugged. "Yeah, she told me I was going too. I told her not to be naive, and she ignored me. It's all good, babe. Hey, get back to that whole holding me thing, would you? I liked that." 

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you again, and you leaned into him with another sigh. You needed to find out what had happened at the meeting. You needed to find out if Rick's trip to King County had been successful. You needed some damn food. You needed to make sure Merle wasn't out there killing Shane, since you were pretty sure that was the only reason he wasn't in here right now giving you hell. 

Speaking of Shane, you needed to find a minute to ask him just what the hell was going on, what with that kiss and the way he kept looking at you, and the way Maggie's voice sounded when she'd woken you up. 

None of that really mattered to you right now, though. Nothing really mattered except closing your eyes and leaning into Daryl and- 

Your feet left the floor and your eyes shot open. "What the hell?" 

He snorted, giving you an amused look as he laid you down on the bed. "Ya fell asleep on your feet, baby." 

"I did not!" 

"Ya did too. Scoot over," he ordered, and you slid toward the wall. "There. C'mere," he offered, and you curled up with your head on his chest without arguing. Maybe you had five thousand things to do, but what you wanted to be doing was this. As he started running his fingers through your hair, you yawned. 

"Hey, where's Merle?" 

"Probably yellin' at Shane and Rick. Just go to sleep; he'll be in here fussin' over ya soon enough," Daryl muttered. 

"Ugh. I should probably just get up and go stop him." Your voice trailed off on that last bit, and his chuckle rumbled under your ear. 

"Yeah, you do that, baby."


	78. Primal Scream and Shout, Ooh Let That Terror Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> mentions of past drug use  
> mentions of past overdose  
> mentions of past possible attempted suicide

It was quiet in the cell when you woke up, Daryl's warm body no longer under your cheek. You sighed and scrubbed a hand over your face as you stretched and sat up. 

"Well hey there, Sleepin' Beauty," Merle's drawl had an edge to it, and you turned to find him sitting on the floor with your rifle in front of him in pieces. 

"I just cleaned that, you know," you told him with a frown. 

He glanced up at you. "Then ya apparently used it as a damn bayonet down there in the boiler block, baby girl. So, here I am, cleanin' it for ya again." 

You swung your feet to the floor and rolled your shoulders some more. You were still pretty stiff from having your hands tied back behind you for so long. Maybe you'd get Daryl to do something about that later. 

"So, how much yelling are we about to do, brother?" you asked Merle as he looked at you in silence. 

His lips twitched. "Well, I don't know, girlie. Ya got somethin' worth yellin' at me about?" 

You lifted an eyebrow at him. "That shiner on Shane's eye, maybe? However much damage you did to him while I was asleep? I can probably think of some other things too." 

"He earned that goddamn shiner. And I didn't do a damn thing to him since he brought ya back, sugar."

Your eyes narrowed on him. "He didn't do a fucking thing I didn't agree to." 

Merle laughed. "I know that. You done with your list of grievances? 'Cause I got a few for you too, darlin'." 

You sighed and waved a hand in a lazy gesture. "Lay it on me then. If I come up with anything else, I'll let you know." 

 

 

"Goddamn it, Merle! This is far enough!" You were screaming at him, and he just sat there, laughing. 

The bastard was laughing at you, while your pulse pounded in your ears and your hands shook from the fear and adrenaline. It'd only been a month since he'd landed in the hospital in what you were fairly certain had been a suicide attempt. He hadn't said yes, but he hadn't said no, either, and whenever you asked, his eyes slid from yours and he'd change the subject. 

When your phone rang these days, sick dread churned in your stomach. Tonight was no exception, and you were over it. You shouldn't have been riding tonight, since when you got the call you were four drinks in yourself. But it was Merle. You couldn't- wouldn't- let anyone else handle him. 

Not even Daryl. 

Your teeth ground together at the thought of your ex, who'd stood in his brother's hospital room and told you he hated you. Told you you'd ruined both of them, while your best friend lay there attached to an iv drip and you had the growing suspicion in your mind that he'd done it to himself. 

No, you wouldn't let Daryl handle Merle tonight. 

"The fuck is so damn funny to you, Merle?" you yelled. "Is scaring the shit out of the people who love you hilarious to you? Jesus fucking Christ! Are you really this much of self-centered asshole?" 

You started pacing the length of his small office, four steps in one direction and four steps in the other. Merle had stopped laughing, at least, and was following you with his eyes. 

He looked like fucking shit, you thought with a growl. Under the swelling, the bruises, and the blood from his latest bar brawl, he was too damn pale. There were circles under his eyes that had been there since before he was in the hospital and never quite went away, along with the vaguely haunted expression. 

Whatever had been slowly destroying him since he got back was speeding up its timetable, and you- 

You were loosing him, and you didn't know what to do. Frankly, you were terrified. Without him, you had nothing.

So you raged at him. You started in on him for every little thing you had to be angry about, beginning with the fight he'd gotten in tonight and ending up, about twenty minutes of screaming back and forth with him later, with him teasing you mercilessly about the chupacabra as kids. 

Luckily for both of you, since he'd risen unsteadily to his feet about two accusations into your rant and started yelling back at you, the place was largely deserted at three am. The Sarge had poked his head in about five minutes into the fight, checked to make sure no punches were being thrown, and ducked right back out again. If anyone else was in the Crow, they were staying well away from the two of you. 

On the rare occasions that you actually fought, bystanders tended to get caught in the crossfire in very unfortunate ways. 

"I know it wasn't a goddamn cupacabra, Merle; the point is it was the two of you who put the damn idea in my head, and then you wouldn't let it go when it stuck! Damn it, I was-" 

"Ya were fourteen, baby girl. Old enough to know a hell of a lot better," Merle said dryly. Something in his tone had you biting your lip to try to keep from smiling. 

"Goddamn it," you muttered at him as he flashed you a grin and blew you a kiss. "Fine! Alright. We done?" 

"Yeah, sugar. We're done," he agreed, and held out a hand for you. You stepped into his arms and he hugged you tightly, despite the bruises you were certain he had all over from the bar fight earlier. 

"Look, I know ya worried about me. I'm gonna be aight, girlie. I promise," Merle told you softly, and you sighed. 

"You better be, asshole. You're all I've got." 

 

 

It only took five minutes before you were nose to nose with Merle, voices raised as you both shouted over each other. Daryl was the first to appear in the doorway, leaning against it with his arms crossed as he watched the two of you argue. Rick came at a dead run with a panicked expression that didn't change when Daryl held him back. As Daryl started making comments of his own, going back and forth between your side of the fight and Merle's, Shane walked up holding Judith. 

By the time the two of you were breathing hard and were down to arguing about childhood shit, the whole damn group was stuffed into the doorway watching the fight with anxious eyes. All except Daryl, who had the thoroughly entertained and unconcerned look of someone who knew how this would end. 

"Well, damn it, baby girl! I'm sorry, aight? I shouldn't have punched Josh, but he let ya walk home alone at damn near midnight!" 

"He didn't let me do anything, Merle, and I had already punched him!" you yelled back, exasperated. 

He cracked first, lips twitching and eyes starting to dance. You held on a beat longer, but you couldn't stay angry with that look in his eyes. Not anymore, not ever. You crossed your eyes and stuck out your tongue, and both of you started cackling. 

"What the actual fuck?" Shane muttered from outside the cell as you flung your arms around Merle's neck and he gathered you close. 

"Worried me, baby girl," he whispered in your ear. 

"I know. Worried myself, if I'm honest," you whispered back. "I won't do it again." 

"Yeah, ya will," he said as he let you go. 

You made a face, but shit. That was probably fair. 

"They don't fight much, but when they do, it's always the same," Daryl was telling the others in an amused voice. "Bout the time anything from when we was kids comes up, they're done. Always ends with them laughin' at each other. Damn idiots. Show's over." 

You grinned at Merle and leaned your cheek against his shoulder. "How the fuck you cleaning this thing with only one hand, asshole?" you said abruptly, looking down at the scattered parts of your rifle that had gotten kicked around the cell as the two of you argued. 

He grunted. "Slowly, baby girl. Slowly." 

"Shit. That means you ain't done anything and I have to do it now, doesn't it?" you said with a sigh. 

 

 

"So, I met this Governor," Rick declared to everyone. "Sat with him for quite a while."

"Just the two of you?" Merle asked quietly. 

Rick nodded slowly. "Yeah. He wants the prison. He wants us gone. Dead. He wants us dead for what we did to Woodbury." 

You glanced around the group and most of them were scared. Shit, you were scared. You'd been wandering through Woodbury recently- they had the numbers and they were armed. Even if Rick had found a treasure trove in King County, there weren't any more bodies to work a gun than you had right there in the room. 

Rick's eyes met yours and lingered. "We're going to war," he declared.


	79. His Game Is Called Survivin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of potential rape/non con

You glanced at Shane and caught him eyeing the door Rick had exited after his pronouncement. So, Walsh thought Rick had been acting strange too. 

And then the arguing began. You leaned back and closed your eyes, wondering when this group was going to realize that acting as a democracy hadn't worked. Acting as a Rickocracy was the only real way to keep moving forward these days. Even slightly unhinged, Rick was doing amazing things as a leader. 

It wasn't until Merle and Michonne had formed a coalition together that you all should hit fast, hard, and first; Hershel and Carol were loudly declaring that you should run; and Shane's voice was starting to rise with stress as he tried to moderate and talk everyone down that you shoved away from the wall. You stuck your fingers in your mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle. Instant silence descended the room, with Carl looking at you like you'd just done something massively impressive. 

"Thank you. Ok, people, if all that yelling over each other starts up again, I'm busting out my 'Bohemian Rhapsody' one-woman show, alright?" you said into the silence. Daryl and Merle both groaned, and you shot them an amused glance. 

"We all have opinions. I don't think any of us are really excited about the prospect of going to war with these guys," you said seriously. "Shit, I was just in Woodbury. They're armed and there's a lot of them, and even if Rick brought back a goddamn arsenal from King County, there's only so many of us. Guns are only useful if there's bodies to shoot them with." 

Shane gave you a look. "Nameless, you're not exactly helping settle things down right now." 

"I'm getting there. Shit, speeches are Rick's thing," you said with an eye roll, and a subdued chuckle ran around the room. "The point is, guys, we're in this together. I don't think any of us want to try to branch out on our own anymore, do we?" 

You glanced around, and though Michonne and Merle looked uncomfortable, they didn't disagree. Well, that was a good sign, at least. 

"Let's keep the arguing to a minimum, then, shall we? Walsh, you gonna go talk to Rick or am I?" you asked Shane. 

"You ain't goin' nowhere right now," Daryl said firmly. "Ya ain't eaten since ya got back, and ya probably ain't had shit in awhile before then." 

You shook your head, disagreement on your lips, but your stomach chose that moment to growl loudly enough that everyone could hear it. Beth started grinning, Shane smirked, and Merle chuckled. You sighed and shook your head. 

"Fine! You guys, just- get back to whatever you were doing before Merle and I started arguing. Get ready for whatever's coming. Officer, I guess you get to talk to the Deputy," you said, heading toward the common area. When you reached Shane's side, conversations had started up again, and you motioned him to follow you to the little makeshift kitchen. 

He did, with Daryl at your heels. The three of you stood close together and you looked at Shane seriously. 

"Something's not quite right with him. Daryl, what happened at that meeting that Rick didn't tell us?" you asked as Daryl set one hand on your back and fiddled with the crossbow's strap with the other. 

He shrugged. "Governor was already there when we got there. Andrea rolled up and hadn't known he was there. She went in for a bit, then they kicked her out. I talked to one of the Governor's men, Martinez. He told me last he'd seen ya you were fine. Tied up and gagged because you'd been drivin' him crazy singin' Zepplin, but fine." 

You grinned. "Yeah, he wasn't impressed with my guitar solos."

"Baby, ain't nobody impressed with your guitar solos," Daryl muttered, glancing at you fondly as Shane tried unsuccessfully to turn a laugh into a cough. "Then both Rick and fuckin' Philip came out. There was no you, so Merle and I tried to kill him right there, but Rick stopped us. We came back here and Maggie told us ya were back. That's all I know." 

You and Shane glanced at each other. "Must be something else the Governor said," you offered. 

"Yeah. I'll find out," Shane said. He ran his fingers down your arm as he headed toward the exit to the skywalk. "Eat, damn it. Daryl can catch you up on King County," he called over his shoulder. 

You sighed and selected a can of baked beans from the neatly stacked array, then noted it on the notepad clipped up next to it. Carol's fingers were all over that one, you thought with amusement. Daryl was watching where Shane had headed out, eyes filled with something wary.

"Out with it," you said, waving your fork between bites. 

He glanced at you and raised his eyebrow. 

You snorted. "You've got that same expression you had when we ran into each other under the bleachers with respective 'dates'. Come on, just say what's on your mind." 

"Rich Johnson didn't want nothin' but sex out of ya then, and I stand by that," he muttered. 

You rolled your eyes at him. "Well, duh, babe. Think I didn't know that? Come on, you're not going to distract me here."

"Shane's got a thing for you," Daryl said bluntly. 

You blinked at him, because you'd been expecting to do a great deal more work to get that out of him than you'd just done. You set the fork into the can, laced your fingers together, and looked at Daryl steadily. "I was starting to think so." 

He nodded and sat down beside you, reaching for your hands. You let him take your hand and lace his fingers through yours, eyeing him cautiously. If he'd broken up with you and hated you for five years over an imagined thing for Merle, what the hell was he going to do with Shane? 

You'd actually slept with the officer, after all. 

"I know ya think I'm gonna get all possessive or some shit. I ain't," Daryl said seriously. You waited as he fell silent, wondering where this was going. Finally he shook his head and gave you a soft smile.

"Baby, I know ya. If ya wanted Shane, you'd have gone for him. Ya wouldn't be with me. Don't worry about it, aight? I just wanted to make sure ya noticed." 

You blinked and tightened your grip on Daryl's hand. "That's very... Not Dixon like of you. Usually there's punching involved," you muttered. 

He snorted. "I tried to shoot him a couple times already. Does that count?" 

"Oh, well, there is that," you said with a grin. "Fair enough. Yes, I noticed. I don't know- Dixon, he's my friend. I don't want to lose that." 

Daryl nodded. "I know. Don't worry about it. Ya ain't gonna lose nothin', not 'cause of me anyway. Shane's a decent enough asshole. Group needs him. I ain't got a beef as long as he don't try nothing." 

You leaned in and kissed him, your hand on his cheek. Relief soothed the sharp edges of worry you'd been feeling since Shane had kissed you in the tombs. "Thank you, babe." 

He rolled his eyes and kissed you back gently. "Didn't do nothin'. Eat, bitch." 

"Share with me, asshole," you countered, and he grabbed the fork with a grumble and a tiny smile. 

 

 

"No," you declared flatly, staring at Rick in shock. Bright sunshine was a bizarre counter point to the sick wave of shock at Rick's brutal suggestion.

"YN, listen-" Shane started, and you pointed at him without looking away from where you and Rick were having a stare-down. 

"No, damn it!" 

"It could-" 

"Yes, could. It could do a lot of things, including leaving us short at least one fighter and still in the same damn boat! He doesn't keep his promises, Rick!" you snarled. 

"I know! Alright? I know! That's why we'd need more to it than just-" 

"Than just delivering someone to him? You think?" Your voice was tight and furious, and this was one argument Rick Grimes was not going to win, damn it. He just wasn't. 

Daryl put a hand on your arm. "Simmer down, baby." 

"No!" you snapped, glaring at him as well. "I will not simmer down. Rick, this is- are you fucking kidding me with this? Both of you!" You tossed your hands up and glared at Shane and Rick, each standing in that matching cop pose of theirs- arms crossed, one leg bent. Weight on the back foot. As you watched, Rick unfolded his arms and rested his hands on his belt, ducking his chin and starting up the Rick Grimes intense-friendly look. 

You narrowed your own eyes and met the look without fear. Your immunity remained in tact. "Rick, this is nuts. Do you know what even a hint of this would do to this group? They are scared; they are fractured. We need clear, decisive leadership and a plan that doesn't involve sacrificing someone, damn it." 

"Why are you so against this?" Shane asked, looking genuinely confused. "I mean, you're-" 

Your chin came up and you sneered at him. "I'm what? A criminal? Yeah, I know, Officer. But the first rule of the Nameless is you don't betray your own. Punishment upon infraction of club rules, sure. You fuck up, we'll toss you on your ass in a heartbeat. But we don't just leave one of our own hanging out in the wind, and we definitely don't turn them over to an enemy who'll do worse than just kill them." 

You turned, pacing a couple of steps away from the other three. 

"YN, it's the only way. No one else knows," Rick said seriously. 

Daryl, who'd stayed mostly silent while Rick and Shane talked and you argued, spoke up. "Are you gonna tell 'em?" 

"Not until after," Shane said. 

You scoffed again, swinging back toward them. "There's your first clue this idea fucking sucks, Deputy." 

"Look, we have to do it today, and it has to be quiet," Rick insisted. 

You stared at all three of them. "Are you- Are you serious right now? Am I the only one who thinks this is a goddamn fucking horrible idea?" 

Shane scuffed the ground with the toe of his boot and looked at you. "No, I think it's shit too. But we have to try." 

"Fuck that!" you snapped. "You came through the woods alone to storm Woodbury after me. Daryl, you and Merle tried to kill that asshole at Rick's meeting. Jesus, Rick, you're the one who told Andrea to get us in the town or there was nothing else you wanted from her! What the fuck? Now you want to trade someone in an attempt at a peace that won't ever let us truly let our guard down?" 

"That's different," Shane insisted sharply. "You're different." 

You scoffed again. "Bullshit. You just like me more than you do her; that's all the difference is. But that's not how we decide things, asshole. See, I like Daryl more than I like you, but I'm not going to turn you over to a man who will torture, abuse, and eventually- if you're lucky- kill you. Shit." 

"Yeah? Well, you'd sacrifice a man to save a little boy's life. Don't see how that's much of a difference," Shane shot back, eyes hard. 

You felt your lips curving into a cold smile as you took another step toward him. He didn't look away or back down, and Daryl murmured your name and reached for your arm. You ignored him and stepped right up into Shane's space. 

"Don't test me, motherfucker," you whispered. "I wasn't the one last seen with Otis, was I? And this isn't about saving a little boy's life. It's about turning someone over on the off chance- the slim, barely fucking there at all chance- that the Governor keeps his word. He won't." 

Shane was glaring at you, but you saw his eyes drop to your lips for a brief moment. He didn't say a word and he didn't meet your eyes again either. You sighed and stepped back, turning to Daryl. 

"Seriously, Dixon, you can't be ok with this," you said softly. He shook his head.

"I ain't. Look, Rick, how would ya even go about doin' it?" 

Rick sighed. "Tell her we need to talk. Away from the others." 

You clenched your teeth around your next wave of protest over this bullshit. Daryl brushed the back of your clenched fist with his fingers and looked Rick in the eyes. 

"Just ain't us, man," he said quietly. 

"No, it isn't," you snapped. "I can't- fuck it, Rick. I've never gone against anything you said before. I'll argue, sure, but I've never just refused. If you want her dead, I'll kill her myself. It's not about not being willing to do the hard thing. I'd do anything for you people, and you all know that. This? This gets us nowhere. It just makes us monsters, and we'll have to fight a damn war anyway, with the torture of a woman for no damn reason on our consciences. I can't handle that, Rick. I refuse to do this. You want it done, do it yourself. I'm out." 

You walked away as Shane and Rick both called after you, holding up your middle finger at them as you went. 

 

 

You ended up under one of the Crown Vics for lack of anything better to do with the simmering anger that bubbled inside you. You hadn't felt like this since you and Daryl got back together, and frankly you didn't like it. You were a bitch when you were angry, and you knew it. Anyone who came your way was going to catch hell, and frankly? They probably deserved it. Probably.

You moved wrong because you were too busy mentally bitching to really pay attention to what you were doing, and ended up tearing the skin from your knuckles. 

"Fuck me sideways, goddamn it!" you yelled, pulling yourself out from under the vehicle to see how bad the damage was. Frankly, it was nothing compared to the way your wrists looked, so you swiped the blood off on your pants and promptly forgot about it. 

You considered ducking back under the car, but you didn't move. You leaned your head back against it with a long sigh instead. What the hell was happening around here? 

The cops wanted to hand someone over to an attempted rapist and the criminals wanted to keep her safe. Well, criminal, singular. They hadn't involved Merle, and they wouldn't if they knew what was good for them. You didn't know what he'd think about the whole damn thing, but you did know you didn't want them laying that on his shoulders to find out. 

Merle had dealt with enough hard choices in his life; he didn't need this particular one shoved on his plate. If the officer and the deputy wanted this done, they could damn well figure it out themselves.


	80. Stand Me Up At the Gates of Hell, But I Won't Back Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> past torture  
> mentions of drugs

Daryl came looking for you a little while later. "Hey. That's my job," he said, kicking your booted foot lightly. 

You flipped him off with one hand from under the Crown Vic. "You haven't been under one of these damn engines, Dixon." 

"Yeah. Said it's my job. World ended, baby. I don't have to do my job anymore," he said, tone amused. 

"Whatever. Rick going through with it?" 

"Ya comin' out from under there so we can actually talk?" he asked. 

You grunted an affirmative and wiggled your way out. Daryl was leaning against the side of the car and reached down a hand to pull you up. He didn't let go once you were on your feet, instead pulling you to him and wrapping his arms around you loosely. 

You leaned against him with a sigh. "So. Is he going through with it?" 

"He ain't decided nothin' yet. Ya got to him. Ain't never disagreed with him before, not like that. It threw him," Daryl told you seriously. "I told him ya were right. Just ain't us." 

"Mmm," you acknowledged. "Didn't stop the inevitable though, did it?" 

He sighed and started drawing patterns on your back absently. "Naw." 

"I won't help." You were dead serious, and they needed to understand that. "There has to be a better way." 

"Yeah. Don't know what it is, though." 

You shoved back to stare at him. "What, you think this is a good plan? To trust that rapist bastard to not kill us all even once he gets his hands on her? Please!" 

He scowled. "Don't put words in my mouth, baby. I get that ya pissed. I ain't the enemy here." 

"I know," you snapped, then stopping pacing to look at him. "I know. Sorry, babe." 

He shrugged and reached for you again. "Wanna stay out here or come back inside and try to figure shit out?" 

You sighed. "Honestly? I'd rather stay out here. I'm too pissed to be of much use besides sarcastic comments." You offered him a faint smile and he returned it. 

"Aight, baby. Come on in when ya calm down," he told you, kissing you softly as he started back toward C block. 

 

 

 

You sat in Merle's office and stared at him. "You want me to do what, exactly?" 

"Come talk to this asshole with me. I need someone to play good cop to my bad cop, baby girl. Ya just gonna ask questions in a nice voice. Put that pretty face to good use," Merle said easily, pulling a matching pair of brass knuckles out of his drawer. He started to slide them over his fingers and hissed as they hit already scraped knuckles. 

You leaned forward and took them from him with a sigh, fitting them over your own hands. "Hey, I kinda like these," you said, flexing your fingers. 

Merle snorted. "Ya supposed to be the good cop, baby girl."

"I'm not supposed to be any kind of cop, asshole," you shot back with a smirk. "So basically, you want me to help you torture a guy." 

He regarded you steadily as you formed a loose fist and tossed a few mock punches. "Ya better fix ya form there, girlie. That punch was shit." 

"Merle, please. There's no one here but the two of us," you told him with a roll of your eyes. "And I don't hear you telling me I'm wrong." 

He shrugged. "Cause ya ain't. We need to know what he knows." 

"And you think beating it out of him is the way to go?" 

"I think it's the fastest way," he said. "Look, ya trust me? If it don't work for ya, I won't ask again. Just need someone I trust at my back in there. Someone who'll back my plays." 

You sighed, staring down at the metal on your fingers. "I don't like it, but I'll go. Daryl's going to have words with you, though. He hates it when I do shit like this." 

Merle eyed you. "Got that damn dreamy look in ya eyes again, girlie. Ya ever gonna do somethin' about that massive crush ya got on my brother?" 

You scowled. "Shut up. Just for that, you're not getting these back. Let's go punch a guy until he talks," you muttered, feeling heat rising on your cheeks as Merle laughed. 

 

 

You headed into D block looking for Merle. You wanted to bitch at someone, despite your earlier desire not to put this shit on his shoulders, and you were pretty sure Daryl's patience would run out pretty quickly. Merle followed the same club rules you did, and despite the fact that he'd tried to kill Michonne, he wouldn't want to turn her over to someone who wouldn't kill her. 

You froze when you saw the mattresses shredded in front of every cell. "Goddamn it," you whispered, feeling the burn starting at the back of your throat. 

He'd promised you. He'd promised you he was clean and he would be on his best behavior. 

You started up the stairs to the second floor when you heard his voice. You slowed and listened. 

"We'd go out on runs. He's bash somebody's skull in. Slash their throat. Never waste a bullet, he said. But I always thought it was just an excuse. He ain't gonna kill her, you know. He's just gonna- do things to her. Probably take out one of her eyes. Both of 'em most likely. Rick would let that happen for a shot?" 

You heard the scorn in his voice, thank God. If Merle was on your side, too, maybe between you and the Dixon boys you could talk some damn sense into Rick and Shane. 

"Rick thinks it's the right move." 

Shane's voice surprised you. You'd thought it was Daryl Merle was talking to. He'd had an openness to his tone you usually only heard in your little family unit. 

"You'd need wire, not rope. Nothing she could chew through. Shit. You're right, Officer-"

Shane cut him off. "Don't call me officer." 

"Why the hell not? It's what my baby girl calls you," Merle challenged. 

"I know." 

There was a pause. "Huh," Merle finally said. "That's what I thought. You'd best leave that alone, Shane. She ain't available. Never seen a more damn symbiotic relationship than theirs, aight? So- you leave them be, or I'll handle it for 'em." 

You blinked and leaned against the railing on the stairs, pressing your fingers over your eyes. Did Merle just threaten Shane if he didn't leave you and Daryl alone? What the fuck were going to do about Walsh? 

God, this was so not what you'd come in here for.

"What am I right about, Merle?" Shane's tone said clearly that Merle needed to drop it right now. 

Merle chuckled. "I don't know why I do the things I do. Never did. I'm a damn mystery to me." 

"Oh, that's just bullshit," you declared, shoving off the railing and stomping up the stairs loudly. 

Shane and Merle were leaning in the doorway of a cell, more shredded mattresses on the floor. Both of them had vaguely guilty expressions, and you ignored Shane- a stellar plan that had been working out in your favor so far, at least- to glare at Merle. 

"Hey. What the hell is all this?" you asked bluntly. 

He winced. "Not what it looks like, baby girl." 

"Oh, don't you 'baby girl' me right now. One chance, Merle. The minute you get fucking high, you're going to do something stupid and you'll get kicked out on your ass. So. What. the hell. is this?" you ground out, furious that he was doing this to you again. "You said you were sober." 

"I am!" he snapped, eyes flashing. "I ain't lookin' for drugs, girlie. I been in my fair share of cells, darlin'. Inmates hide lots of shit in mattresses." 

"Yeah, including drugs," you muttered, weary. "I'm tired of saving you, Merle. You fuck this up, I'm not going to bat for you." 

"Now, that's bullshit," Shane said, shaking his head at you. "You can't help yourself, Nameless. It's in your blood to go to war for this waste of oxygen." 

"Hey!" you snapped on him, two steps in his direction before he and Merle exchanged amused glances and you realized he'd been baiting you. You glared at him. "Oh, fuck you, Walsh." 

Shane shrugged. "Naw, you're taken," he said casually, and you tried not to wince. 

You hated this so much already. You really needed to clear a few things up with the officer. Instead, you crossed your arms and continued ignoring the whatever it was that was going on with him. "You trying to recruit Merle for Rick, since I won't help?" 

Shane met your eyes levelly. "I'm trying to recruit him for something. I was gonna come find you next, criminal." 

"What for?" you asked, eyes narrowing. You knew that look. "Shit. What dumbass plan do you have in mind now? Please remember that your last idea got us both real close to dead and got you that pretty eye makeup, Walsh." 

Shane glanced at Merle. "She always had that fuckin' mouth, man?" 

"Shit. She's sweet as sugar since she'n my brother started shackin' up again," Merle countered, winking at you as you pressed your lips together and raised both eyebrows at the two of them. 

"Hilarious, boys. Nice to see you two getting along so well. Now, let's go over this again. You have a plan, Shane? Because I already told you, I will not back Rick's 'hand a woman over to a fate worse than death' shit."

Shane sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. It stuck straight up, making you wonder just how many times he'd done that already today. After a minute, he looked between you and Merle seriously. "We know where the Governor will be. He wants Michonne by noon. I say the three of us take him out instead." 

You stared at him, honest to God speechless for the second time that day. "Are you insane?"


	81. Babe I'm Gonna Leave You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

"Hear me out," Shane said seriously, taking a step toward you. 

"No! Jesus, Shane!" 

Merle chuckled. "Ya know she's serious, man. She called you by your name." 

"Yeah, I know," Shane snapped. "YN, come on-" 

"Why are all my friends suddenly and inexplicably turning into idiots? Is it something in the air? Shit, I wonder what asinine ideas Daryl's going to come up with!" You tapped your fingers against your lips dramatically, over-exaggerating a considering expression. "Well, I don't know, but he'll have to work hard to top yours and Rick's!" 

"YN-" 

You gestured dramatically. "Ooh! I know! He'll say that we should get the zombies to do the work for us! Just round them up, point them in the right direction, and-"   
You broke off with a frown. "Son of a bitch." 

Shane and Merle exchanged amused glances as you actually started to put some thought into it. Merle shrugged at Shane. 

"Seems she's done bein' all dramatic now. Might do to try again," he said dryly. 

Shane eyed you warily. "You gonna listen now, Nameless, or just cut me off every damn word like you do Rick?" 

"Depends. Will it work better on you than it does on Rick?" 

"Naw," he said with a grin. "So here's what I'm thinking. Governor told Rick where he'd be and when. We go out, head toward the spot from three directions. We're all good fucking shots. Take the rifles, get set up before they get there, take our shot. When he's down, we book the hell out of there. Quick, clean. No contact between us and them; we do not engage." 

"Just the Governor?" you said slowly. "Why not take out more, like his lieutenants?" 

Merle sighed. "Girlie, I ran with those boys. Most of 'em just followin' orders like good little soldiers. The ones as ain't, still aren't bad as he is. Shit, they ain't as bad as you'n'me are." 

You thought about Martinez and how he hadn't done worse than gag you when you drove him crazy, but had taken the time to tell Daryl you were alive and unharmed. Sure, he was an asshole. But then again, so were you. You nodded. 

"Ok, Walsh. But we have to do this right. We need a map, a plan, some coordinated signals. Shit they teach you pig bastards in the Academy, right?" you said with a grin. 

Merle laughed as Shane scowled and rolled his eyes. 

 

 

Once it was worked out, the three of you had to leave right then. No stops except to scoop up weapons, no talking to anyone. 

No saying goodbye. 

You chewed on your lip as you drove, guilt gnawing at you and making your stomach churn. Leaving without saying anything to Daryl just felt so wrong. Especially since you'd just been kidnapped and escaped. 

"Motherfucker, this is a bad idea," you muttered, looking at the prison receding in the rear view mirror. Walkers turned and looked as the truck drove by, following it with their rotting hands grasping out at you like a goddamn premonition. 

That was stupid. Get your head in the game, girl. 

"C'mon, girlie. I know what ya thinkin'. Little brother ain't gonna even notice we're gone before we're back," Merle said softly, reaching out to pat your knee. 

You looked over at him and sighed. "Thanks, but I'm pretty sure he's going to notice." 

"Well, he'll be fine with it when we get back and tell them the Governor's dead," Shane offered. He'd been put in the backseat, and he wasn't happy about it judging from his scowl and his tone as he stared out the window. 

You rolled your eyes. "It's a damn good thing Merle's involved in this little shindig, Walsh. If you and I got into more trouble together, I can't guarantee you'd survive." 

He met your eyes in the rear view as Merle laughed, and you grinned at Shane's expression. 

 

 

"Alright, boys, we have arrived," you said quietly as you pulled the car to a stop in a pretty quiet little subdivision. You twisted in the seat and took the rifle Shane passed to you, then looked at the two of them seriously. "We get to our spots; we shoot him; we leave. Correct?" 

"Yes, baby girl," Merle said, reaching out and patting your cheek. "Stop fussin'. It's all gonna be fine, darlin'." 

You scowled at him. "Take this fucking seriously, Merle." 

"I am. Now get, girlie. We gotta get in place before that asshole and his people get here!" he threw open the door and hopped out, and you followed his lead reluctantly. Shane did too, and the three of you stood looking at each other for a minute. 

"Damn it," you muttered, and proceeded to hug them both. "Ok, assholes. I'm gone. See you in a bit." You took off through the trees at a jog, headed for your entry point without looking back. 

 

 

"Oh come on, Daryl! You've got to be kidding me with this shit!" you groaned. 

He shrugged, looking at you with dancing eyes despite his serious face. "Nope. Full house, baby."

"Damn it! Why do I bother to play poker with you guys? I swear, I'm a decent player, but against you two I always loose," you bitched as you tossed your cards toward Merle. 

"Sorry, baby girl," he said with a grin as Daryl raked the chips toward him. "Guess it's a good thing we ain't playin' for cash, ain't it?" 

You snorted. "Please. Like any of us have cash to spare." 

Daryl chuckled. "Yeah, man. We're sixteen, and you live in a this shit hole." 

Merle glanced around at the tiny, grimy kitchen. "Ya got a point, little brother." 

You sighed as he dealt a new hand. Shit cards again, damn it. You glanced over at them, trying to read their faces, but you got nothing. "Hey, boys?" 

You got answering grunts in response and smiled to yourself. Daryl looked up when you didn't say anything else and frowned. "Whatcha starin' at?" 

Your smile became a full-blown grin when Merle looked up at you too. "Look at us. We made it out." 

They both snorted, identical expressions as they went back to their cards. You laughed and tossed chips in the center. 

"I've got shit cards, boys, but I'd bet on us any day," you said, batting your eyelashes as they both groaned. 

"Jesus, baby girl. Ya need to work on ya trash talk, darlin'," Merle muttered, shoving your shoulder as you laughed some more. 

 

 

 

You panned through the scope, perched in a tree and already one hundred percent convinced something was going to go wrong. When Shane and Merle had been talking about this place, you'd been fairly certain covering it with only three of you wasn't going to work out well. They'd convinced you otherwise. Now that you were here, you were back to being sure you were right. 

There were just too damn many buildings; too many places where a person could slip into a corner and not be seen again. 

"This is a really fucking bad idea," you muttered to yourself as you the Governor's cars slowed to a stop. You'd apparently gotten there just in time. People started piling out of vehicles and you waited for him to show his asshole face. "Come on, come on. I want your other damn eye." 

He didn't appear, and a sinking feeling started as your stomach dropped toward your toes. 

"Oh, I've got a bad feeling about this," you muttered as you did another rapid scan of the area. 

"There's probably a reason for that," a familiar voice said dryly, and you looked down to find Martinez standing under the tree with a couple of other goons, each of them pointing a gun at you. 

"Shit," you said, and dropped the rifle.


	82. Last Dance With Mary Jane, One More Time To Ease the Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

They took you in via a twisty fucking path in and out of buildings that you were ninety percent certain couldn't be seen from either Shane or Merle's vantage points. This was exactly what you'd been talking about, you thought grimly. But does anyone listen to you? No. Of course not. 

He was inside the main building, where Merle said he'd met with Rick. He smiled when he saw you, Martinez leading you in with a hand on your elbow. They hadn't bothered to tie you or gag you this time, and you crossed your arms and scowled at the Governor. 

"You again," you snapped. "When are you going to stop bothering us?" 

He laughed faintly. "Thank you, Martinez. If she's here, it's a good bet the rest of them aren't far away. Let's go say hello, shall we?" 

He stalked forward and grabbed your arm like Martinez had done, striding toward the door and dragging you along. 

"She had a badass rifle with a scope. She was a sniper," Martinez told the Governor. He paused and looked at you. 

"She'll make a damn good shield too," he said after a beat, and pulled you in front of him. He wrapped one arm around you and set a gun against your side. "Now, let's go, sweetheart," he hissed in your ear. 

One of his men pulled the door open, and they formed up around him while he drove you forward. Once he had you where he wanted you, he stopped. 

"Rick! I know you're out there! I found someone you might be interested in! Now, we can still make this work, despite your attempt at a double-cross. I'll trade you this one for Michonne, as agreed!" he yelled toward the trees. 

You scoffed. "You really think Rick's going to turn a woman over to you, after what you did to Maggie? Please." 

"Shut up," he hissed in your ear. "Rick! Come out, come out, where ever you are! We need to talk, or the girl takes a bullet to the guts!" 

"He's not here, jackass. It's just me," you tried again, hoping like hell neither Shane or Merle did anything stupid, like- 

Shit. Well, like that. 

"Hello, Governor," Merle said, coming forward with a cheesy smile and his arms up. "Rick ain't here, but ol' Merle is." 

 

 

You sighed. So far, this was going well. Two thirds of your strike team currently had weapons pointed at their heads. 

"Merle. I want to talk to Rick," the Governor repeated. 

Merle smiled without it meeting his eyes. "I told you. Rick ain't here right now, my man. He's busy countin' crows, if ya know what I mean." 

You frowned. 'Counting crows' was a Nameless code; one you hadn't heard in a long damn time. Accompanied by a number and a direction, it basically meant wait this long then go this way. But he hadn't given you the rest of the information. 

"I have no idea what you mean. Rick and I had a deal on the table. Does this mean the deal's off?" The Governor asked, his tone faintly amused and faintly pleased. 

You ground your teeth together, waiting as you'd been instructed. Merle shrugged, met your eyes for a minute, and looked back at the Governor with a lazy smirk. 

"Damn if I know, man. I'm just the errand boy, ya know? Send ol' Merle up and over with a few guns and see what kinda trouble he can drum up," he told the Governor. 

You frowned. Ok, this was a mash-up of Nameless codes, Shane's codes, and complete nonsense that you were having to devise some meaning from. If you were following this shit at all, 'errand boy' meant Merle was the diversion. 'Up and over' were your directions, but over where? 

This was less than precise, damn it. 

'A few guns' could mean there was about to be gunfire or wait a few minutes, you weren't sure which. And how many was a few? You had no idea if drumming up trouble was supposed to mean anything or not. Merle always drummed up trouble. 

You eyed Merle as the Governor asked him something else that you didn't really hear, but he didn't look at you again as he responded. Then he met your eyes and held them, lips softening into a genuine smile. 

"That's aight, asshole. I ain't gonna do nothin' to screw this up. Ya got my whole damn world in ya hands right now, and I ain't ready to say goodbye," he said softly. 

You stopped breathing as you stared. 

Music started blasting from nowhere. 

 

 

"Counting crows." 

You snorted, holding your hand out toward Merle. "Wrench. It's a wait signal." 

"Accompanied by?" The wrench slapped into your hand. 

"A number and a direction. Wait this long, then go this way." 

Merle grunted an affirmative. "Errand boy." 

"Diversion," you ground out in a strained voice as you tightened the pipe fitting. "Shit, Merle, why am I doing this? You know how to fix a damn sink." 

He laughed. "Wondered how long it'd take for ya to question that, baby girl. That's what happens when ya a prospect, Nameless. Ya do grunt work. Count yourself lucky ya just fixin' a sink right now. Clusterfuck." 

You snorted, sliding out from the cabinet your head had been in. "Clusterfuck's not a code, asshole." 

He grinned at you. "Good call. This one is, though. Whole world in ya hands." 

You frowned, thinking hard. That one was obscure, damn it, but it did ring a faint bell. "The spring the trap code, right? Lets the hostage and the person doing the extracting know its time to go?" 

He nodded, grinning. "Well done! That one's not used often. Ain't a regular thing our people get themselves taken." 

"I imagine not," you said with a smirk. "Nameless are damn good at evading." 

"Don't get cocky, girlie. Aight, one more. Ain't ready to say goodbye." 

You looked at him, curious. "That's not a code." 

His smile had faded. "It isn't a Nameless code. It's a Dixon one. Means we're expecting losses, baby girl, and it might be one of us. Don't ever wanna hear ya use it, but we run in dangerous circles. I need to know we'll be able to say goodbye if the situation arises." 

You stared at him. "No." 

"Girlie-" 

"Shit, Merle, that's so damn morbid! No. We won't need anything like that. I refuse to memorize it!" You snapped as you rose and walked away from him, tossing down the wrench on the counter as you went. 

 

 

"Walkers!" Someone yelled, and everyone's eyes flashed to the right. The Governor's gun snapped away from you, and you caught Merle's nod as the shooting began. 

So, a few guns had meant gunfire. Nice to know you could still crack Merle's bullshit codes.

That goodbye was not going to fucking happen, damn it. 

Merle's hand shot to his back and he came out with a handgun. He was moving and shooting the same as you, and someone screamed as gunfire came from the left as well. You jammed your elbow backward into the Governor's stomach, and as he hissed in pain, his grip on you loosened. 

You grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, rolling your shoulder and throwing him to the ground. You put a foot on his neck, but a bullet winged right by your ear. 

"Go, baby girl!" Merle screamed at you, shooting the guy who'd shot at you. Everything was chaos now as the walkers reached the Governor's men, and Merle got hung up fighting one of the dead. "I'm right behind you!" 

White-hot pain shot through you. 

"Shit balls!" you screamed, and kicked at the Governor still beneath you. He'd taken advantage of your momentary distraction to sink a knife you hadn't even known he had into your side, up to the handle. 

Holy shit being stabbed sucked ass, goddamn it. 

You connected with the asshole's head and were going back for more, hand clamped to your side as blood started oozing between your fingers. You dropped down to try to break his neck or choke the life from him or something- anything- when Shane came out of nowhere and grabbed you. 

"We gotta go, Nameless! Leave him!" he called, pulling you to your feet as you tried to land just one more punch on the Governor's now-unconscious face.

"Now's our chance!" you snapped at Shane. 

"Girl, walkers!" he shot back, dragging you away. "You're bleeding like a stuck pig; we have to go!"

"Merle? Merle, damn it!" you yelled as you finally took a look around. 

Shane was right. The music was still playing, so it was still drawing the dead. And the Governor's people were still there. Sooner or later they were bound to start shooting at you guys again.

"Go on, baby girl! I'm right behind ya!" he called, stabbing another zombie casually with his knife-hand and shooting at one of the Governor's men. 

Bullets started winging around at your feet and Shane muttered a curse, shoving you to the side and behind one of the vehicles. Merle dove the other way, and walkers started flowing between you. Shane yelled his name, and Merle looked over, pausing from returning fire to shove his metal arm up between some snapping jaws that came just a bit too close. He nodded once, to Shane, and then met your eyes. He smiled, rose into a crouch, and started back the way you'd come, shooting as he went. 

"No! Damn it, Merle!" you screamed, rising unsteadily. 

You had to help him. The walkers were already following him and he led them back toward the Governor's men. He couldn't take them all alone. You had a knife, even if it was sticking out of your side right now, you could pull it out and help- 

Shane's arm came around you and locked in place relentlessly. 

"Let me go! Shane! Let me go!" You fought as he started pulling you backward. 

"I can't do that, Nameless. Come on, we have to go. Fuck!" He snapped when you slammed your head backward into his nose. 

His grip on you didn't loosen. He'd pulled you out of sight of Merle now, out of sight of the zombies and the Governor and Merle, damn it, Merle- 

"Shane, it's Merle! It's Merle!" you pleaded as the shooting stopped abruptly. "Shane, goddamn it, we have to help him! It's Merle!" 

"I know, girl. I know. YN, I'm sorry," he whispered as you fought him. 

No. No, damn it, you were not leaving here without Merle. You just weren't. You couldn't.

You reached down and pulled the knife from your side as Shane yelled something vicious and tried to stop you. Agony had you screaming wordlessly, but you got the thing in your hand. Blood started flowing faster, though, and the world began tilting and twisting as you struggled; but it was Merle. You had to get back there and help him, goddamn it. 

"I'm not leaving, Shane! I'm not!" 

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Shane whispered again, and the world went black.


	83. Dreams In Which I'm Dyin' Are The Best I've Ever Had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of overdose  
> mentions of suicide

Hospital smells made you vaguely queasy, always reminding you of those brutal few weeks when you were seventeen. Now it'd be worse, you thought, sitting at Merle's beside in the chair Daryl had just vacated. Waiting for your only damn friend to wake up so you could yell at him for ending up in here. 

You curled in the chair, resting your cheek on your knees, and closed your eyes. You tried to block out Daryl's voice, telling you over and over that he hated you. You tried to block out everything and just be, just access your inner zen and sit in peace and silence until Merle woke up. 

Zen was bullshit, damn it. 

"Hey now, baby girl. This seems a tad familiar, but we got our seats mixed up." 

Your head shot up and you unfolded from the chair, leaning toward Merle and grabbing his hand. He frowned as soon as he saw you, trying to sit up. 

"What's wrong, girlie?" he asked.

Your laugh was harsh. "Oh, I don't know, Merle. You're in the goddamn hospital?" 

"Ain't like it's the first time," he said with a grunt as he sat up. 

Your eyes narrowed and you slapped on hand onto his shoulder to keep him down. He stilled, but glared at you. 

"What the hell you mean, this ain't the first time? It's the first time I've gotten a damn call," you growled. 

"That's cause the other few times, I told 'em to call my brother, baby girl. So ya wouldn't make the precise fuckin' face ya makin' at me right now," he said, sounding vaguely amused. 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose. The antiseptic smell grated harshly and your jaw clenched again. "Damn it, Merle. Did you do this on purpose?" 

You opened your eyes and met his, and he slid his gaze away from yours. Your heart skipped a beat before starting back up again about seven times faster than before. 

Son of a bitch, he had. He'd- he'd tried- 

"Where is my baby brother, anyway?" he asked, ignoring your question. 

"Goddamn it, Merle! Can you just answer me? Are you done now? Shit, man," you whispered, eyes filling as you tried to get past the lump in your throat. "Is this enough? I mean, look- the middle of the night calls to come save you are bad enough. But this-" you broke off, shaking your head. "Merle, I don't think I can do this. I can pull you from a bar fight and patch you up. I can give you a bucket and clean up after you while you come down. But I can't- I can't sit at your bedside and watch you kill yourself because you won't let us help you, damn it." 

He scoffed, but he was looking away from you. His eyes were tight around the corners and shiny even as he spoke. "I'm fine, baby girl. Just got a bad batch of shit is all." 

"Bullshit," you whispered. You grabbed his hand again, bringing it to your face as the first of the tears slid down your cheeks. "Merle, please. Please, for the love of God, just let me save your damn life, would you? I can't watch you destroy yourself anymore. I can't lose you too." 

He looked at you then, clumsily wiping away the tears on your cheek. "Silly girl. That's the bullshit. C'mon, I wanna get out of here, aight? Help find me a nurse, girlie. I'm right as rain." 

He grinned at you, and it was his smile, but it didn't make it to his eyes. 

 

 

"Dixon, look, I didn't have a choice-" 

"Ya best shut the fuck up, Shane! Ya left with my girl and my brother and ya come back without one of 'em and the other bleeding out, ya lucky your fuckin' alive!" Daryl's voice was wild and cold, and you had a vague feeling that you needed to do something about it. 

"You think I don't know that, man? What the hell you think she's gonna do to me when she wakes up? I knocked her out and carried her away from there, and I know damn well no matter if he'd alive or not she's gonna try to kill me for it. She'd have run right into that mess and wouldn't have come back out, damn it. I saved her! I'll go back for him once I know she's alright!" Shane shot back, low and tight and angry. 

You focused on trying to open your eyes. So far, it wasn't working. Only about half of what they were saying made any sense to you right now anyway, but there were flashes of memories coming back in fits and starts. 

Walkers, a rifle, the Governor. Being stabbed in the side, which explained why you felt like you had when you'd wrecked the bike. A throbbing on the back of your head that was really goddamn distracting. 

"Naw, ya done enough. I'm goin'," Daryl's voice dripped with pure hatred and you winced. 

"Daryl, I don't think that's a good idea," Rick said urgently, and you could practically see the intense-friendly stare, even with your eyes closed. 

"It's my brother, asshole!" 

Oh. No. No no no no, you thought, powering your eyes open as Daryl's snarl brought it all back. 

You were on your feet and moving from the cell before your body caught up with your brain and registered that sitting up that fast had hurt, goddamn it. It didn't matter though. You snatched up the rifle just outside the cell where you'd been laying and marched toward the exit. 

You had to go get Merle. 

"Baby?" Daryl said anxiously as you passed him, but you didn't pause or respond. 

A hand grabbed your arm, and you looked at it and up into Shane's guilty, angry eyes. His jaw was set, eyes tight at the corners, and your own narrowed on him. 

"I can't let you go, Nameless," he said softly. 

Silence had fallen in the cell block, and you were vaguely aware that everyone was gathered with their eyes on you. Your expression didn't change as you stared at Shane for a long minute. You heard Daryl take a step closer to you; felt the warmth of him at your back.

"Get your goddamn hand off my arm," you whispered to Shane. 

Something that looked a lot like pain flickered across his face before a blankness slammed into his eyes. He let go of you, but stepped into your path as you started forward. "I can't let you go," he repeated. 

You scoffed, lip curling into a coldly disdainful sneer. "You really think you can stop me? Go to fucking hell, Shane. Don't you ever touch me again. If he's dead..." you trailed off, shoving that aside. "Well." 

You walked by him without a word. He didn't meet your eyes as you did. 

 

 

"YN! Daryl! This is a bad idea. Wait, would you?" Rick reached for you as you swung onto the back of Merle's bike. 

Daryl answered as you locked your arms around his waist. "I ain't waitin', Rick. It's my brother. We'll handle it. Don't risk nobody else. Gonna need all your damn fighters." 

He kicked the bike to life over Rick's protests and roared to the gate. Carl hauled it open just enough for the bike to slide through, and you leaned in close as Daryl dodged outstretched zombie arms and opened the throttle to head down the road. 

You prayed harder than you ever had, even as cold spread from your core and made you numb. 

 

 

The music had stopped. 

You and Daryl hadn't spoken more than three words to each other on the way, even when you'd tapped his shoulder to get him to stop the bike and you'd gone in on foot. He'd given you a hand swinging off, then leaned his forehead to yours with his hand on your cheek for a long moment. You'd closed your eyes and fought back the pain and the tears as he kissed you gently. 

Then you were off. The two of you didn't need words in the woods like this; you knew how to watch each other's backs. There'd been a few zombies, but nothing the two of you hadn't handled with ease. 

You had the Governor's knife, the one he'd shoved into your side, in your hands. 

But the music had stopped, and everything was silent. 

Your own pulse pounded in your ears as you and Daryl glanced at each other when you came around the first building. There were walkers on the ground, eating some poor former asshole. Daryl motioned you left with a glance and you nodded. 

You put the walkers down together, and you stabbed their feast in the head for good measure. 

Then you were moving inward more. 

 

 

There were a lot of bodies. You took your time, making sure they were all dead. 

The Governor's knife had a lot of damn blood on it by the time you'd cleared the entire outside of the buildings.

Some of them had gotten away, that was obvious. Their vehicles were gone. You hadn't seen Martinez among the dead, or the Governor. 

Or Merle. 

You looked at Daryl and he nodded. He passed you the crossbow, motioning toward the door of the barn Shane'd said before was where Rick and the Governor had gone. You took up positions on either side, and you covered him as he pulled the door open and stepped in. 

You went to follow him and he caught you and pulled you right back out. 

"What the hell, Daryl?" you hissed, struggling against his hold. 

He grabbed both of your shoulders and pulled you around to look him in the eyes. "Don't go in there," he said quietly. 

You felt everything drain away along with any blood there might have been in your face. "No," you whispered. 

"Baby, please," he said as you started to push around him. His voice broke and you stopped, seeing the tears on his face and the look in his eyes- 

"I have to!" 

Your throat burned; your vision blurred. Fear was a roaring wave of your own blood in your ears, and he let you go. 

He followed at your back, and you could hear him crying as you stepped into the gloom, hands shaking.


	84. Take It Calmly and Serene, It's the Famous Final Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> major character death  
> angst!!!

"No," you whispered. "No. No!" You screamed the last one, and Daryl's arm wrapped around you as your legs gave out. 

"No!" you screamed again, and broke away from Daryl. You took two strides to the side and threw up, hand over the bandaged knife wound as you heaved and cried. 

Daryl turned at kicked the wall, screaming in rage and pain just as you had. His was wordless, not the outraged denial you couldn't stop hurling at the world. Even as you cried, between choking sobs and the rolling clenching of your already-empty stomach, you just kept saying no, over and over and over again.

The rattling and groaning from the center of the room was almost drowned out by the sound of yours and Daryl's grief.

You forced yourself upright and turned, dashing the tears from your eyes and wrapping an arm around the burning agony of your abdomen, bracing yourself even as you lifted Daryl's bow. Your hand shook as you tried to aim, and finally the bow fell from your hand. 

"Damn it! Goddamn it!" you screamed, and walked toward what the Governor'd left you. 

He'd beaten the shit out of your friend. Merle's face, despite the way reanimation had grayed and hollowed him in the mere hours since it'd happened, still told the story of a hard, brutal beating. His nose was broken, his lip was split in three places. You couldn't be sure, but you were pretty sure one of his cheek bones had been cracked as well. 

That bastard had taken two of his fingers from his remaining hand, and his other arm hung from the chains at an odd angle. But worst of all, absolutely worst of all, was the bullet hole in his stomach. 

The Governor could have made it so he wouldn't turn. He could have spared your brother that. Instead, he killed him slow and painful, and left him chained up for you to find like you did now. 

Merle's clouded eyes met yours, and the lack of anything that made up Merle in them stabbed through you harder than the knife to your side had. You screamed again as he rattled against the chains holding him in place, jaw snapping and rasping a moan as he tried to get to you. 

To take a bite out of you, because you were no one to him. You were nothing to him at all. 

You stepped closer as Daryl called your name brokenly. You could barely see through the tears in your eyes; barely hear through the sound of your own desperate gasping for breath. Nothing made sense as you looked into those dead eyes, grey and lifeless and empty of everything except hunger. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I tried. I tried, Merle; I tried to save you so many damn times. I'm so sorry," you whispered over and over, hoping for something. Some hint of recognition in the eyes you loved so dearly. "Please, Merle. Come back. Be different. Come back. I need you. I-" 

You lifted a shaking hand to touch his cheek and he lunged for you, jaws snapping. 

 

 

"Hey, Merle!" you answered the phone on the first ring. 

He chuckled on the other end. "Hey, baby girl. That was fast." 

"Almost like I've been waiting for your call or something," you responded cheerfully, curling up on the couch and closing your eyes. 

He laughed again. "Have ya now?" 

"Of course! We miss you, asshole," you said, biting your lip and hoping he asked about the 'we'.

"Yeah? That's nice. I miss ya too, girlie. Gonna call my brother next. I got time for that, finally," he said.

"You know, next time if you plan a little better you could just talk to both of us at the same time," you offered, fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt as you spoke. "I mean, even just a couple of hours from now and you'd have gotten him here." 

"He comin' over after work then? Good. Told 'im to keep an eye on ya," Merle grunted. 

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, he's definitely keeping an eye on me, all right." 

Merle laughed again. "He drivin' ya crazy? Over there all the time?"

"Yeah. Every night," you answered smugly. 

There was a pause on the other end. "What ya tryin' to say, baby girl?" Merle asked finally, suspicion heavy in his tone. 

You grinned at your empty apartment. "Daryl moved in, asshole." 

Another pause. "Moved in where? Ya ain't got no room in ya place." 

"You deliberately being dense, Merle? Army already beat all the sense out of you? He moved in with me, dumbass. My apartment, my room, my bed. Your brother and I are together now," you said, laughing. 

He let out a whoop on the other end. "Shit, baby girl. It's about damn time. How long's this been goin' on?" 

You shrugged. "Oh, just since the day we dropped you off." 

You could almost see his expression just from the sound of his voice, all soft and pleased. "Shit. I'm happy for ya both, sugar. I love the shit outta ya. Bout damn time," he added again with a chuckle. 

You smiled and closed your eyes, curling around the phone. Yes. It was about damn time. 

 

 

You staggered backward when he snapped at you, the click of teeth finally breaking the spell. 

"You aren't Merle," you snarled at the walker. "You. Aren't. Merle!" 

You screamed it at the zombie, shoving him, hard. He rattled the chains and shuffled his feet as he tried to get to you. You screamed again, grabbed the Governor's knife, and staggered toward him. 

Daryl grabbed you and spun you around into his arms. "No," he whispered hoarsely. "No, baby." 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" you gasped out through the fresh wave of tears. "We have to put it down!" 

"I do. I have to put him down," Daryl said, emphasizing the him. You jerked your head, denying that the dead asshole was Merle. 

It wasn't him. Not anymore. It wasn't Merle. 

"Let me go," you whispered. 

Daryl did, but he put a hand on your cheek and looked you in the eyes. He looked as lost and broken as you felt, and you added a wave of guilt over the sick anguish burning through your brain like fire. It was his brother, after all. 

"Let me, baby. I need to," he whispered, and you closed your eyes against the hurt in his voice. You nodded, feeling the callouses on his hand rough against your cheek. The walker moaned again as Daryl wrapped you in a hard hug. 

Pain speared through the stab wound in your side, but you didn't make a sound as Daryl held you with the desperate need of someone whose world was imploding around them. 

You understood the feeling. 

"Don't look, aight? Please, baby, don't look," he whispered as he let you go. You nodded, once, and turned your back as he stepped toward the zombie. Your shoulders hunched as you wrapped your arms around yourself, shaking like a leaf in the wind as you cried. 

"Shit. I'm sorry, Merle," you heard him whisper, and closed your eyes tightly, holding your breath to keep from sobbing.

You flinched and dry heaved again as you heard the wet, sickly squelch. Then Daryl's arms were back around you, his own hands shaking against your neck and your back. You buried your face in his chest as you wept, both of you sinking slowly to the ground as the weight of it all carried you down. 

 

 

"There's no way the Clash is more iconic than Zepplin," you protested, waving your hand expansively. "It's Zepplin!" 

"And the Clash revolutionized British rock," Daryl argued calmly. "Look, I ain't sayin' they're better. Just both of 'em are legends in their own right." 

You scowled. "Well, duh, Dixon. Of course they are. It's the Clash." 

He stared at you for a minute before shaking his head. "Ya practice bein' this annoyin' or what?" 

You grinned appreciatively. "Nope. It's a God-given talent. Hey, where we going?" 

He eyed you for a minute, but you could see the slight gleam of amusement in his eyes. After hanging out with him all day, you were beginning to pick up cautious displays of emotion. He hid behind the scowl like you hid behind the confident attitude and smart mouth you'd had to adopt quickly in the group home. You didn't survive long if you didn't throw off don't fuck with me vibes. 

"Over here. Gonna meet up with my brother before we head home." 

You eyed the group of twelve year olds warily. Older kids- especially older boys- were never a good sign for a lone eight year old girl with a bad attitude and rock band shirts. Boys thought they had a monopoly on shit like that, and you'd gotten a few black eyes, Indian burns, and other injuries from crossing them. Daryl glanced at you and jerked one shoulder. 

"Merle's cool. C'mon. Merle!" he yelled, stopping a few steps away from the group. One kid looked up, waved, and said something to the others. Then he separated himself from the group and came swaggering over to the two of you. 

You looked him over as he approached. Shoulders thrown back, arrogant tilt to his head, tightness around the eyes. He walked with confidence, but it was as much of a front to your skeptical eyes as yours and Daryl's were. His jeans were ripped at the knees like Daryl's, hems tattered and scraping the ground. His t shirt had a stain that looked suspiciously like blood on the front, as well as a constellation of small holes in the neck and shoulder seams. 

It also had an AC/DC logo, and you felt the first wave of approval. 

Then the kid was at Daryl's side, tossing his arm over your new friend's shoulders and eyeing you with the same wary evaluation you were eyeing him with. He was doing it out of only one eye, though, because the other one was black and blue and swollen to match the cut on his lip.

"Hey, little brother. Who's the chick?" He was still looking at you, but the words were directed at Daryl. "Get yourself a girlfriend already?" 

Daryl's cheeks turned pink. "Shut up, dick. This's YN. YN, my big brother Merle. She lives next door." 

Merle grunted. "Ya the foster kid." 

You sighed and gave him your best bored look down your nose. "Yup. You the asshole I'm gonna have to beat up first?" 

Merle's head flew back as he laughed wildly, filling the air with sound. Your lips twitched as he clapped you firmly on the shoulder. He tugged Daryl closer with the arm still around his neck. "I like ya, baby girl. C'mon, little bro. Let's go home." 

"Shit. I ain't going anywhere with someone who calls me 'baby girl'," you snapped, crossing your arms in annoyance. 

Merle glanced over his shoulder where he and Daryl had already headed toward the road and winked at you. "Well, hell, girlie. Guess you're stayin' here then, huh?" 

You frowned harder and waited a beat, then sighed and went after them. It wasn't like anyone else cared enough to even invite you along. Who gave a shit what he called you?


	85. She Sells Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> mentions of past child abuse  
> angst!!!

"We have to get back," you said numbly. 

Daryl sighed, head on your shoulder. "Mmhhmm." 

You staggered to your feet, pressing a hand to your side as if that would help. Like if you held your innards in at the place you'd been stabbed, it'd keep you from leaving your heart behind when you left the darkened barn. 

You didn't look at the thing that used to be Merle as you walked out slowly. Daryl's fingers brushed yours and you latched onto his hand like a lifeline. Neither of you spoke as you left the barn and the bodies behind. What was there to say? He was gone. Merle was gone, and it was just the two of you. You'd been a trio for as long as you could really remember, and now-

You froze when you got back to where you'd left the bike. Daryl stopped beside you when you pulled up short, and looked at you curiously. 

"C'mon, baby. We gotta get back." 

You started backing away, shaking your head rapidly, eyes fixed on Merle's bike. 

 

 

Merle's bike roared to a stop beside you. You sipped from your coffee, leaning against your own seat as he pulled his helmet off with a grimace. 

"Morning," you said cheerfully, and handed him the second coffee in your hand. He snatched at it and drank greedily, and you smirked. "Rough night?" 

"Ain't got no idea, girlie," he muttered, rubbing at his eyes. 

"Where's Daryl?" 

He shrugged. "Work, I guess. Why we doin' this shit this early again?" 

You laughed. "Merle, it's ten thirty in the morning. It's hardly early. Come on," you teased, shoving upright as he gulped at more coffee. 

He swung off the bike and tossed an arm around your shoulders as you set off together. 

 

 

The thrum of an engine carried through your open window, even over the Motorhead you had playing while you worked on your paper on the history of the punk movement in England. Your head shot up and you felt yourself smiling. 

No way. You shoved your head out the window and let out a whoop at what you saw. 

Merle pulled his helmet off and flashed you a grin as he revved the engine with his other hand. Daryl's head shot out of his own window, glancing between you and Merle and shaking his head at the two of you. He waved you over, and you nodded, holding up two fingers as you ducked back into your room. 

You slid out the window a moment later, paper abandoned in favor of the sleek new machine and your cool as shit big brother. He waited, engine still roaring, as you and Daryl converged on him. 

"What the hell are ya doin' here?" Daryl yelled. 

You were too busy checking out the bike to ask questions like that. "Your arms are going to hurt on any long rides!" you yelled, even as you ran your fingers along the gleaming chrome of the ape hangers. 

Merle laughed. "Grab ya helmets kiddos! Ol' Merle's gonna take ya each for a spin. Who's first?" 

Daryl chuckled as you bounced forward on your toes, eyes wide with excitement. He crossed his arms and jerked his head toward his window. "Go, baby. I know ya dyin' to get on that thing," he yelled. 

You squealed and kissed his cheek as you dashed toward his room, where he kept your helmet in his closet. This was shaping up to be the best day ever. 

 

 

The road bent and twisted and curved and you whooped your way through every one of them. This was why you rode. This was what you lived for. Merle cruised up beside you, one hand dropped as he flexed his fingers and tried to work the blood back into them, and you laughed. You revved the engine on your Softail, and Merle shook his helmeted head at you. 

You grinned. 

The next curve came up fast and you leaned into it, far enough that you could have brushed the pavement with your knee if you'd lost one iota of control. But you didn't, and when you leveled out on a straightaway, you rose to stand on the footrests and took your hands off the handles to throw them in the air, for a split second of glorious, heart-stopping freedom. 

Daryl roared up on one side, and you could practically feel his eye roll at your antics as you settled back into the saddle for the next curve. Merle appeared on the other side, both hands on his ape hangers now. He shot forward a touch, a clear challenge to you to race. 

"Oh, it's on, brother," you muttered, catching your lip between your teeth as you handled the curve. 

The next bit was another straightaway, and you opened her up and let the engine fly. Merle's Triumph matched you as went, challenge and fun easy to read in the set of Merle's shoulders, and this- this was what heaven looked like. You were certain of it. 

 

 

"I- I can't-" you stuttered, taking another step back from the Triumph. "Daryl, that's his-" 

You could feel your breath coming fast and loose, the way your lungs were straining and you couldn't seem to get a thought out coherently. He grabbed you by the arms and shook you lightly, breaking your frozen gaze away from the familiar lines of Merle's bike. You met his eyes and saw how fragile his hold, like yours, was on reality. 

"I get it, baby, but we ain't got nothin' else, and we gotta get back. We gotta get back. Governor could be attackin' our people right the fuck now, baby," he said, low and insistent. "We gotta go." 

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, focusing every bit of goddamn willpower you possessed on getting your breathing under control before you fucking hyperventilated. Finally you nodded slowly and opened your eyes. 

"Ok. Ok," you whispered, and strode forward determinedly, swinging your leg over the bike and settling on the rear seat. "Can you drive?" you asked Daryl as he approached more slowly. "Or do I need to?" 

He shook his head, stopping for a moment and drawing the same deep breath you had. "I will. I gotta." 

He climbed on grimly, kicked her to life, and paused again, head hung low. You wrapped your arms around him from behind and pressed a kiss to his shoulder in silence. There was only one thought in your mind as he took another shuddering breath and sped away. 

You were going to kill the Governor. 

 

 

"Want me to kill him?" you asked Merle bluntly as you watched him move like every muscle in his body hurt. 

He shot you a look. "Shut ya mouth, girlie. Ain't nothin'." 

You scoffed. "Sure. Nothing. Touch your damn toes then." 

"I cain't touch my damn toes on a good day, baby girl. Why the fuck would I want to anyway?" he shot back. 

"Whatever, Merle," you said with a sigh, flopping back on his bed. "Where's Daryl?" 

"Pickin' up my shift down at the shop," Merle said reluctantly. "Didn't want him to go, but he insisted." 

You snorted and pointed at him. "Good. If he hadn't, I would have." 

"Already told ya a year ago, baby girl, ya ain't goin' near that place," Merle snapped. 

"Then I guess it's a damn good thing Daryl went, isn't it?" you told him pleasantly as he laid down gingerly on his stomach beside you. You turned your head to smile at him. "We've got your back, brother, whether you want us to or not. Just accept the love, asshole." 

He scowled, but something moved in his eyes as he did. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Take a nap, ya look like shit." 

"Right back at you, brother," you told him, and kissed his cheek before curling up on your side. 

 

 

Shane pulled the gate open as you leaned to one side and stabbed out at a walker that was too damn close. The walker fell behind you as Daryl pulled the bike in, and Shane hauled the gate closed again. 

As soon as the bike was at a stop you were swinging off, trying to control your face and keep how difficult moving was under wraps. You had to be mobile. You needed to keep moving. 

If you stopped moving, even for a moment, you were going to shatter into a thousand pieces and you didn't think you'd be able to put yourself back together. 

Daryl swung off the bike as well and caught your arm. "Hey," he said softly. 

You looked at him, feeling the tears start to burn in the back of your throat again. "Daryl, I can't-" 

"I know. Ya gotta keep movin'. I know," he said quietly. "I's just gonna say, I'm goin' down to the tombs for awhile. Clear my head, kill some walkers. Check for weaknesses. Kill a buncha birds, one damn stone." 

You nodded, grateful he understood. This man, your friend since you were a kid, knew all your quirks and needs like you knew his. He knew you'd need to keep moving. You knew he'd need time alone. Neither of you needed to ask the other for what you wanted. 

You leaned into him for a moment and his hand curled on the back of your neck. He kissed the top of your head and pulled a way, nodding at you instead of saying anything. 

"Daryl!" you called when he was several steps away. He turned and looked at you. 

You pressed your lips together before you spoke again. "I love you." 

He strode back to your side, slid his hand along your cheek where the tears were already falling again, and kissed you gently. "I love ya too, baby. It's gonna be ok. Not yet, but-" he broke off and shrugged. 

You nodded, wordlessly, and kissed his palm. His thumb stroked your cheek once before he walked away again. 

This time you didn't call him back.


	86. Bringin' On the Heartbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past child abuse

In the tower, you gripped the rifle and scanned the trees with the scope. Every flash of movement had your finger tensing on the trigger, but it was never anything you could shoot at. It was never the Governor, or Martinez, or any of the other rat bastards who'd- 

You cut your brain off before it could take that thought any further. 

He'd come. He'd come, and he'd bring his assholes with him, and you'd be waiting. 

He was yours, damn it. Yours. 

There were slow, careful treads on the stairs of the tower. You'd heard the gate open and close, heard the grunt of effort as someone put down a walker. You didn't take your eye from the scope to see who it was. 

It wasn't Merle, so you didn't damn well care. 

It would never be Merle coming to check on you again. 

 

 

"I know ya in there, baby girl," Merle called as he tapped on Daryl's door. "Listen, girlie, I heard the yelling from your place. Ya aight?" 

You crawled out of Daryl's bed and unlocked his door, cracking it and keeping your head ducked. Merle simply shoved it open the rest of the way and put two fingers under your chin, tilting your head up so he could see. 

"That's gonna be a good shiner, baby girl. He do that?" 

You nodded slowly. 

"Shit. Well, ain't like we don't know how it goes. Daryl'll be home in a bit with at least a couple of rabbits. Have rabbit stew for dinner. Give ya one of the feet for luck?" he offered with a wink. 

You scowled. "Shit, Merle. That's disgusting." 

 

 

"Hey," Shane said from the doorway behind you. 

You ignored him in favor of tracking a zombie with long braided hair and a tattered dress. It- you refused to think of it as a she- stumbled through the trees toward the prison with disjointed steps, jaw working at nothing. 

You ruthlessly ignored the click of teeth snapping together that echoed in your ears. 

"Nameless, come on. Talk to me, please." Shane sounded exhausted and worn down, and you didn't give a shit. 

You said nothing, panning away from the zombie in the dress and catching another hint of movement in the trees. It was just a bird, but you tracked it as well, from one branch to another, until you lost sight of it. 

Shane sighed and stepped closer to you. "Goddamn it. I'm sorry, ok? I'm sorry. I had to get you out of there. Shit, you probably shouldn't even be up here right now. You were bleeding, there were walkers everywhere, and he-" Shane's hand touched your arm and you whirled, finally reacting to his presence. 

You swung the rifle up and clocked him in the jaw with the butt of it. His head snapped to the side as he grunted in pain, one hand coming up to his face. You took a long step back and waited for him to meet your eyes, then calmly set the rifle back against your shoulder and returned to looking through the scope. 

"So this how it's gonna be? We just done?" Shane asked quietly. 

You snorted. 

He paused. "The hell was I supposed to do, sweetheart? Just tell me that. What was I supposed to do? Let you die with him?" 

You sighed and finally lowered the rifle. You leaned it against the railing carefully, knowing if you tried to continue this conversation with it in your hands, there was a good chance you'd use it on him. You turned and looked at Shane finally, crossing your arms and fixing a glare at a point just behind his ear. 

He sighed and ran a hand over his hair. "Well, I guess that's better than nothing," he muttered. "Come on, Nameless. We're friends, right?" 

The sound that came from your throat could only have been called laughter if someone was being very generous. It certainly held no trace of amusement. "You knocked me out and you left him there!"

"I had to!" Shane yelled. 

You laughed harshly. "You had to? Like you had to leave Otis behind? Was Merle just a sacrifice too?" 

Shane flinched. "It wasn't like that," he said quietly. "It wasn't- I'd have taken in his place in a damn heartbeat. You know that."

"Why the fuck would I know that, Shane? You hated him!" 

"But you love him, and I love you!" he yelled, frustration in his voice and in the way he flung his hands at you. 

You froze. Turned to stone right there, mid-step away from him and with your arms wrapped around yourself. 

He did too, eyes widening and hands falling slowly as he realized what he'd just said. 

"Shit," he muttered, and shoved both hands through his hair this time. "Shit. Pretend I didn't- Don't- goddamn it. I'm sorry." 

"Go to hell, Shane," you whispered. The cold spreading from your center was growing, edging into your shaking hands and creeping up your throat. You wanted- needed- that chill to touch your brain, to cool the raging fire of grief and rage and let you be simply, calmly, blessedly numb. "Just- just go to fucking hell." 

"YN-" he started, taking a step toward you and reaching out a hand, and you heard the pain in the way his voice came out rough. It didn't matter. 

"I said go to hell, Shane!" you screamed, and shoved him backward with both hands. He staggered back a step but didn't go any further. He crossed him arms over his chest instead. 

"No," he said flatly. "I'm not leaving you up here." 

You scoffed. "I don't want you here." 

"I don't care," he said with a shrug. 

Your vision blurred in a red haze. You'd heard that expression before- people saying they were so angry they 'saw red'. You'd always thought it was just that; just a way of conveying they were furious, enraged, angry beyond the norm for them. 

You got it now. You actually saw red, like cheap novelty sunglasses, muting the colors of the world and turning every bit of the nightmare you'd been trapped in for so long to the hellscape you frequently called it. 

You went at him, fists clenched and up like Merle'd taught you. 

 

 

"Ya gotta make a decent fist, girlie. Like this," Merle said, and demonstrated. 

You frowned and tried to copy the motion he'd made, but you knew you didn't look anywhere near as dangerous as he did. He grinned and reached for your hand, adjusting your thumb and turning your wrist as he pulled your arms up. 

"Gotta keep ya guard up, too. Yeah, like that. Look at ya, baby girl! Ready to take on the world, huh?" he said with a wink. 

You rolled your eyes. "Don't want to take on the world, Merle. Just want to not get beat up by assholes like Jimmy for the rest of my life." 

"Yeah, Jimmy is an asshole," Merle agreed with a sneer. "Well, ya well on ya way. Aight, got a decent fist, decent guard. Now, punch forward. Rotate ya hips to get some force behind it." 

He snorted as you tossed your arm forward. "Shit, girlie. That sucked ass. C'mon, ya can do better than that." 

You scowled, shuffling your feet as you dropped your hands. "That's the best I've got!" 

"Well, then ya gonna get beat up a lot, ain't ya? Try again. Set ya feet. One foot forward. That's right. Guard and fists. Atta girl. Now, put power behind it. Control. Rotate that hip into it- Aight! Better, baby girl!" He grinned at you. "Now do it again." 

 

 

He let you hit him. Sure, you knew you could take Shane, fair fight or not. But he let you punch him; not even trying to fight back. One hit to the jaw, same place you'd clocked him with the rifle, the next a hit to his solar plexus that had him doubling over. You spun into a side kick, textbook form, that slammed into the arm he barely tossed up to block it. 

You moved in again, swinging for his head as everything you'd been feeling, every awful painful thing since Merle- or shit, maybe since you'd stuck a knife in Lori, or since you'd shot that man in the bar, or since you'd put down Sophia, or since you'd killed a cop's undead zombie corpse with his own baton through the bars of a holding cell; or maybe, possibly, since you'd woken up that first night that your foster dad started pacing outside you room- condensed into this one fight. It churned and twisted into the ball of burning, searing heat; the red haze over the world; and the face of the man who'd kept you from rescuing Merle. 

"It's-" punch. "My-" punch. "Job!" Kick. "To rescue him! I keep him alive! I was supposed to save him! I was going to goddamn save him!" 

You weren't sure when you'd stopped fighting him and started sobbing into his shoulder, but somehow that had happened. Somehow he'd gathered you close and held you as you raged, turning the tide of your complete meltdown away from a brutal attack where you'd been trying to kill him. You'd wanted to beat the shit out of him like they'd beaten the shit out of Merle; you'd been trying to do so and, hell- you'd been succeeding. Somehow he'd taken it until he could grab you, and he'd shifted it over to another bout of crying, screaming, weeping anguish. 

"It's ok. It's ok; you can let it out. Come on, you crazy criminal, I've got you. For once in your damn life, let it go," he muttered. 

You did. There wasn't any stopping it then, not by you or him or anyone. 

You shoved away from him, though; wrenching out of him arms because Shane wasn't safety. Shane wasn't home. He wasn't who you wanted, who you needed. You pushed him away, hands over your face as you collapsed against the wall. You struggled, fighting to get yourself back to something like control, and gradually the fire and the anger slid back into that spreading cold numbness. Thank God. Thank God. You needed the numb.

"YN. YN, hey, let me-" Shane's hand touched your shoulder and you jerked out of his reach, turning your glare back on him again. 

"I told you not to fucking touch me," you snapped.

His hand fell away, but he didn't move. "I told you, I'm not leaving you up here alone."

You scoffed, head tilting back to rest against the wall. You closed your eyes. "Do you know what they did to him? Do you know? I do. I could see it, even under-" you broke off and shivered. "I could see, because I know how that kind of damage gets done. They broke his nose. Broke his arm. Think they broke his orbital bone, too, but that I can't be sure about. They took two of his fingers. Only had the one damn hand, and they took his fingers. He shot him in the stomach, Shane. Could have ended it clean and easy, but no. Shot my brother, my best friend in the world, in the stomach and chained him up to turn. Left him there for us to find. Bastard was sending a message." 

"Jesus," Shane whispered. "Jesus, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." 

"Shut the fuck up," you snapped, but it lacked a lot of heat as the cold crept over you. "I- I'm going to kill him. I swear on anything anyone in this damn world ever found holy, I'm going to kill that motherfucking bastard with my bare hands." 

You shoved upright, off the wall, and the cold swept over you, followed by a wave of dizziness as the world dipped crazily. "Son of a-" 

"YN?" Shane's arm came around you and then he was muttering something. "Damn it, Nameless, you popped your stitches. Shit, you're bleeding like crazy again. Shit! Rick! Rick!"


	87. You Wreck Me, Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Rick fussed while Hershel stitched. You laid there, holding yourself still as you could while Hershel did his thing, and wished like hell Merle had found some good shit in those mattresses. You could use it now. 

Daryl was still down in the tombs, and Shane had left as soon as he got you back in C block to go find him. You had a sneaking suspicion they'd punch each other for awhile before you saw either of them. Your money was on Daryl. Then again, it usually was. 

"Rick, goddamn it, just leave me alone, would you?" you said wearily as he asked for the seventy-fifth time if you were ok. "I'm fine. I'm grieving. So's Daryl. We'll be fine. You make a plan and I'll execute it. But Rick? That one eyed bastard is mine." 

"We'll get him," Rick said softly. 

You snorted. "No, Deputy. I mean it. He's mine. You didn't see what he did to Merle. He's mine." 

Rick nodded, once. "Alright then. He's yours." 

"Thank you." 

 

 

Hershel told you in no uncertain terms that you were staying put, at least for the night. Rick had promised that whatever the group came up with could certainly a night before it was put into action. You grumbled, but agreed. You tried to sleep, but Merle's dead eyes and snapping teeth were all you could see, seared onto the back of your eyelids. 

You opened your eyes again with a sigh and pulled the Governor's knife from your belt. You held it up in front of you, looking at the brown-black stains on the blade where the walker blood from earlier that day was drying. You needed to clean it soon. 

Not that it mattered. 

You made a promise right then, this was the knife you were going to use to take his other eye. Not the brain. No, that would be too easy. Too quick. Just the eye. Then you'd decide where to go from there. 

Footsteps slowed outside the cell and then Daryl came ducking in the door, scowling at you already. He had more blood on him than when you'd seen him last, but dropped the crossbow at the entrance to the cell and sat right down onto the bunk beside you like he didn't give a shit about the sheets. 

"Gonna make more work for Carol," you said mildly. Your voice sounded wrong even to you. 

He snorted. "Scoot the hell over, baby." 

You sighed and rolled your eyes, but did. He laid back, arm going around you as you curled up at his side. His fingers went straight to your hair, like they always did. 

"Ya aight?" he asked softly. "Hershel stitch ya back up?" 

"Yeah," you said with a grimace. "Shit doesn't feel any better now than it used to." 

He scoffed. "No shit." 

You felt your lips doing something strange and realized you were smiling a bit. You hadn't thought that was going to be possible again so soon. "Old man has to be getting tired of stitching idiots like us up over and over again." 

"Yeah," Daryl said, and you heard the amusement in his voice. "Us damn Dixons don't know how to stop popping ourselves open." 

You felt the smile growing. "Us Dixons?" you asked softly. 

His fingers stilled in your hair before he shrugged under your cheek. "Yeah. Us Dixons. Shit, baby, feels like we been married half our damn lives." 

"Mmm. That's a very good point," you agreed. "Ok. Us Dixons." 

"Plus, I ain't ready to be the only Dixon," he said softly. "Never was." 

Your arm slid around him and gripped his shirt in a fist at his side. "Yeah. I- I'm sorry, babe. So wrapped up in my own head- he's your brother. I should be there for you." 

"What the hell ya think ya doin' right now?" he asked dryly. "Look, I ain't gonna say I'm ok. I ain't anywhere near it, damn it. Cain't- Cain't think about him. Chained up like that. Shit." 

You shivered. He brought his free hand to rest against your arm, rubbing soothingly. 

"I can't close my eyes without seeing the zombie's eyes," you whispered. 

"Yeah," he agreed. "Shit, baby. I ain't tried to close mine yet. Don't wanna know what I'm gonna see." 

"I'm going to kill the Governor. You can help." 

He snorted. "That was my plan. Maybe I'll let you help me instead." 

That got another amused huff out of you. "Fair enough. Wanna take bets on who gets him?" 

"Jesus Christ, ya a bitch sometimes," Daryl muttered, but his fingers curled around your neck and he pulled you closer. 

"Only sometimes?" you asked. 

"Yeah, only sometimes." 

"That's ok then," you whispered. "Daryl, I'm sorry we left without saying anything to you. I didn't want to. Hell, I wanted to bring you with us." 

"Shane tell ya it was a bad idea?" he asked, and anger stirred under the casualness in his voice. 

You shook your head, cheek moving against his chest. "No. Merle. He said we needed to leave fast and quiet if it was going to work." 

Daryl sighed. "Fuck." 

"Yeah," you agreed. "Daryl?" 

"Mmm?" 

"Don't go nuts. Need to tell you something, though," you said hesitantly. 

He stilled. "Yeah?" 

"Yeah. Shane told me he loves me today. And he kissed me. In the boiler block, before the Governor got hold of me the first time," you said slowly. 

There was a long pause before Daryl sighed. "I ain't surprised. Pissed, but shit. We got bigger problems than him." 

You propped yourself up on one arm to look down at him. "You are being weirdly calm about this whole damn thing, babe." 

"I ain't worried about Shane tryin' to steal my girl. If I couldn't drive ya away on my own, ain't nobody comin' between us," he said, his hand sliding over your cheek. "C'mon, baby. Ya need some damn rest." 

You looked at him for a minute longer, eyes narrowed as you searched for any sign that something was amiss; that he was going to push you away for this. You found nothing in his eyes but pain and haunted sadness and easy affection as his thumb stroked your cheek. So you settled back into place against him with another long sigh. 

"I miss him already," you whispered, and cried again in his arms as he cried with you. Then you slept. 

 

 

Rick called a group meeting the next morning. You looked around the room at the faces of your odd little family and frowned. 

"Where's Walsh?" you asked. Rick's head whipped to you from where he and Hershel had been bent over a map and there was a general rustling as everyone looked around. 

Daryl sighed. "He on watch?" 

"No," Rick answered through clenched teeth as he strode toward the stairs to the second level. He took them two at a time as he called back. "I pulled everyone inside. Carl was in the tower." 

He disappeared into Shane's cell and reappeared moments later, his face even more annoyed than before. He strode back down the stairs with one hand on his gun and a piece of paper in the other. Your eyebrow went up. 

"Whatcha got, Deputy?" you asked. 

Rick's jaw tightened as he handed you the paper. "He left a note. Said he'd be back later." 

"Where the hell did he go?" You snapped, annoyed even as you took the message from Rick. 

Rick shrugged. "Says he has to do something. I can't worry about him right now. New rule- you sneak off without telling anyone; you're on your own. We have to make a plan, people. Now, I've got some ideas. Let's work this out." 

You tuned out Rick and the argument squad as the debate began to rage. When Rick made his final decisions, someone could summarize for you. You unfolded the note from Shane, wondering why Rick had handed it to you. 

'Rick- you probably won't notice I'm gone before I get back, but figured I'd leave this just in case. I've got something I have to do. If I don't make it back, tell Nameless I'm sorry. Kiss Judith for me.' 

"What the fuck is he doin' now?" Daryl muttered. 

You sighed and tipped your head to rest on his shoulder. "I have no idea, but that dumbass better not get himself killed. If anyone gets to kill him, it's me." 

"Ya on a murder streak right now, ain't ya, baby?" Daryl asked, voice sounding both concerned and amused. His fingers started kneading into your shoulders and you tipped your head forward so he could work on your neck as well. He chuckled slightly, obliging. 

"Yeah. Got a lot of people who need to get dead," you answered him seriously. "Governor, Martinez. Anyone who laid a hand on Merle. I'm not fully ready to kill Shane just yet, but give me some time. He keeps pulling shit like this and I might." 

Daryl snorted. "Ya won't. Ya like him too damn much." 

"What's the supposed to mean?" you asked, probably more sharply than necessary. It was just- Daryl was being remarkably cool about this whole Shane-liking-you thing. You were slightly on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

He kissed your shoulder as his thumbs went to work at the base of your neck. "Chill, would ya? I don't mean nothin'. He's ya friend, that's all."

You tried to come up with a response that didn't sound like 'are you sure that's all you meant?' because you so did not want to be that girl. Luckily, Rick's voice cut over to you before you really had to. 

"Ok. I think that's the plan, then. We pack everything- leave nothing behind. Make it look like we're running," he said grimly. 

"Are we running?" you asked. 

Maggie and Glenn laughed as Rick shot you a look. "You haven't heard a word we've been saying have you?" Rick asked, resignation in his voice. 

You grinned at him. "To be honest, nope. I figured I didn't need to hear the debate when you could just give me the final version." 

He shook his head at you, hands on his gun belt. "You're impossible, you know that, right?" 

Daryl snorted. "Shit, man. She's damn mellow compared to when we were kids." 

"Don't be a jerk," you told him primly. 

Rick shook his head and smiled fondly at the two of you. "We're not running. We're just going to make him think we are. Go pack."


	88. I Don't Give A Damn About My Bad Reputation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past drug running

"Shit, girlie," Merle said, glancing around the mostly empty living room. "Ya really ain't got nothin' do ya?" 

You snorted and passed him a beer, dropping down to sit cross-legged between him and Daryl, making up the third corner of your little triangle. "Like your place looks much better, asshole." 

"I got a couch at least, baby girl." 

You shrugged. "Whatever. I've got a couple of folding chairs. I'll hit up the Goodwill in a couple of weeks for some of the other shit." 

Merle actually shuddered. "Ya ain't gettin' no damn couch from the Goodwill. I'll ask around, see if anybody has anything." 

"How's that better'n the Goodwill?" Daryl muttered, winking at you over his own beer when you grinned at him. 

Merle gestured. "Knowin' where it came from's always better, little brother. Trust me."

"Whatever, man," Daryl said, then looked at you. "I's promised pizza if I let ya use the truck to haul shit. Where's my pizza?" he demanded. 

You rolled your eyes and pulled out your phone, checking the delivery status. "Coming soon. Some guy named Glenn is apparently headed our way as we speak." 

 

 

Packing didn't exactly take long for you and Daryl, but the others had settled in a little more than the two of you had. Once your cell was stripped bare and the bags deposited in either Merle's saddlebags or the back of Shane's Hyundai, the two of you were given extra assignments from Rick. You were sent to the tower to keep watch- especially to keep an eye out for Shane- and Daryl was down in the tombs with Glenn, working on one of Rick's downright nasty surprises. 

Rick came up the tower steps at a jog now. You glanced into the courtyard, where everyone was trickling in from various corners of the prison. Last-minute additions were being tossed into the cars and quiet goodbyes were being said. Rick hit the walkway as you scanned the trees again with the scope. 

"Hey, Deputy. We good down there?" you asked as he leaned against the railing beside you. 

"Yeah. We're good," he answered. 

You looked at him and waited. When he didn't speak again, you sighed. "Out with it, Rick." 

"Where the hell is Shane?" 

"That is the million dollar question, isn't it?" you agreed. 

He rubbed a hand over his face. "I had to think about it. I had to consider it. The Governor's deal. I had to." 

You glanced at him without saying a word. If he was looking for absolution, he'd come to the wrong place. Sure, you agreed with him to a certain extent. He did have to consider it. It should have only taken about ten seconds to come to the conclusion that it was the wrong damn call. 

"When I called it off, you know what Daryl said? He said he wasn't saying it was the wrong call, but that not doing it was definitely the right one." 

You snorted as you scanned the trees again. "Yeah, that sounds like Dixon." 

"I wouldn't blame you if you blamed me for Merle," he said quietly. 

That caught your attention. You looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Why the hell would I blame you, Deputy? It was Shane's dumbass idea, and Merle and I were the bigger dumbasses who went with him." 

"Yeah. Well, if I'd listened to you earlier, you might not have thought it was your only option," Rick said, giving you a worried look from the corner of his eye. 

You scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. We're good, Rick." 

"Yeah? We still allies?" 

You laughed and patted his shoulder. "Shit, Deputy. Think it's safe to say we're friends, right?" 

Rick smiled. "I'm glad you still feel that way. I'm sorry. About Merle." 

"Yeah, well," you sighed. "That's life for you. Play the hand you're dealt, right?" You paused and then chuckled. "Shit, he only had the one." 

Rick laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, he did." 

"What else is on your mind, Deputy?" you asked when he stayed silent and staring into the woods. 

"Oh, I don't know. Am I doing the right thing? Is this the right call? All that leader shit." 

"Mmm," you acknowledged, and gave him a sidelong glance. "That's what comes of the Rickocracy, my friend. For the record, this? Is a decently solid plan. My only problem is what you want from me. I should be up here, not down there." 

Rick shook his head, as he had when he'd first told you what he wanted from you. "I can't risk that." 

"Don't trust the criminal?" you asked archly. 

"No, I trust you. I just know you're a little hell bent on revenge right now. Not that I blame you. I just can't risk you going rouge on me halfway through." 

You sighed. Goddamn it, you hated it when he made sense. "I hate it when you make sense," you informed him. 

He laughed. "Thought that's why you elected me leader." 

"Judas Priest, Deputy. What elections? 'It's not a democracy anymore'," you said, deepening your voice and adding some Georgia drawl. 

He chuckled even as he winced. "Oh yeah. That. Why the hell didn't Shane just shoot me right then for that?" 

"Probably because he knew you were the right man for the job," you told him seriously, though you smiled. "You might be a little crazy, man, but who the hell isn't these days?"

 

 

Shane still hadn't shown up when Rick gave the whistle and waved you down from the tower. 

You scanned the trees one last time, genuinely starting to worry about the guy. You were pissed at him; you were fairly certain you hated him on some level; but damn it. He was still your friend. Still one of your family, at the very least. 

He'd better fucking be ok, you thought grimly as you slid down the steps and ducked a zombie. You kicked it casually backward and slid through the gate. 

Daryl gave you a look. You shot him a smile you didn't really feel and a thumbs up. He lifted an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes and shrugged. 

"Did you two just have an entire conversation without saying a word?" Michonne asked softly from your elbow. 

You glanced at her, amused. "Yeah. That's what happens when you grow up with someone." 

"I forgot. Childhood sweethearts, right?" she asked. 

"Yeah," you said, your smile genuine now. "I guess you could say that." 

"That's something special," she said wistfully. "Hold on to it." 

You looked back at Daryl as he slung the crossbow over his shoulders. "With both hands," you agreed, and flashed Michonne a smile as you headed over to him. 

"Hey, baby," he said as you walked up. "Ya aight?" 

You shrugged. "Eh. Ready for this shit to be done with." 

"Yeah. Same. Shane back?" he asked, and you fidgeted and sighed. You shook your head. 

"Shit." 

"Yeah," you agreed. "Hey." 

He glanced at you. "Hmm?" 

"Be careful?" 

His eyes softened. "Always. You too, aight?"

"Of course," you whispered, and he touched your face and kissed you quickly. 

 

You drove Merle's bike out. For a minute, sitting in the saddle before kicking it to life, you didn't think you'd be able to. You closed your eyes and thought about how it'd felt to grab onto Merle the first time you'd ridden any bike; how it felt to hold onto him the first time you'd ridden this bike. 

The indulgent amusement in his eyes as you chattered and beamed and demanded to know everything there was to know about the bike, Atlanta, the club. The flash of pride you'd seen in them when you wrecked two minutes into riding solo for the first time, picked yourself and the bike up, and took off again. 

You kicked her to life and revved the engine, meeting Daryl's worried eyes and grinning at the sound. He smiled back at you, shaking his head and muttering something to Rick with a jerk of his head in your direction. 

You stuck your tongue out at them both and opened the throttle. 

 

 

The best part of riding at night was opening the visor on your helmet and letting the cool air rush over your face. The worst part was all the damn gnats. 

Fuckin' Georgia, man, you thought as you slammed it closed again. 

Bugs or not, night rides alone were some of your favorites. Clearing your head after some weird shit that day or a late-night call to do something you found vaguely morally reprehensible; thinking your way through a problem when you couldn't sleep; running away from the memory of pacing feet outside your door- night rides were good for all of those things. 

Shit, this was magic. You could feel the tension from the clean up you'd been on melting away, and the problem of 'what the fuck do I do about Merle?' was starting to feel a little less dire. Shit, if worse came to worst, you'd knock his ass out and check him into rehab yourself. It felt a little less than truly effective, but better than constantly wondering if this was the call. 

Your anniversary was coming up soon. Damn past you for tattooing that date down your back. You'd never be able to forget it, would you? 

It wasn't like you were going to be having any other anniversaries, was it? You couldn't hold on to a man for more than three nights anyway. Not that you cared.   
None of them were at all interesting, damn it. One good fuck and you were done. 

Hell, that was probably what you really needed. It'd been awhile since you scratched that particular itch. Since Merle landing himself in the hospital, there just hadn't seemed like any point. 

Tomorrow you were running that shit up for Merle. Maybe you'd find someone interesting out in King County to scratch the itch.


	89. The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> past childhood sexual abuse

Michonne had followed you with Hershel, Carl, Beth, Judith, and the last of your group's vehicles. You high fived Carl and gave him a nod. 

"Keep an eye on these guys, alright kiddo?" you told him seriously. He nodded back, eyes hard. He was pissed as hell to have given guard duty, but you agreed with Rick on this one. He didn't need to be in the crossfire. 

You hesitated, then dropped down to his level and looked him dead in the eyes. "Carl. This isn't shit patrol, kid. You know that, right? Family is everything," you told him seriously. His stony expression had cracked, just a little, and you could tell he was actually listening to you now. "We're all we've got. One of the hardest jobs in the world is watching people's backs. Frankly, there aren't a lot of us in the world who are cut out for it. Most people who have the strength also have the need, the drive to be on the front lines. To be leaders." 

"You're a leader," he argued. 

You snorted. "Only when I have to be, kid. Trust me, I'm much better suited for guarding the rear. Your sister needs someone to watch her back. So do Beth and Hershel. And your dad needs the added assurance of not having to watch for where you are at all times. This isn't shit patrol. It's important." 

Carl looked down. "Yeah, I guess," he muttered. 

You smirked. "Try not to hold it against your dad too much, alright? See you soon, my dude." 

"See you, Nameless." 

"Shit, kid. You get that from your Uncle Shane?" you shook your head at him with a grin as you rose. He smirked back at you, and you rolled your eyes at him. A nod to Hershel and a reassuring smile to Beth, and you and Michonne fell in together to haul ass back to the prison. 

 

"You worried about him?" Michonne asked quietly. Speaking quietly, if at all, seemed to be a fundamental aspect of her personality. 

You glanced at her. She had her sword in hand and kept her eyes moving, never staying on one place too long- the wary movement of someone who'd been out here alone for far longer than you ever had been. 

"Worried about who?" you asked, but you knew who she meant. 

"Shane." 

You shrugged. "Maybe. I mean, I'm wondering what the fuck he's gotten himself into this time. But he's hauled himself out of more shit than you'd expect." 

"I've heard some stories. From Andrea. About Shane, about you- all of you." 

"Yeah?" you asked, curious. "She had something to say about me?" 

Michonne's lips twitched into a small smile as she shot a glance at you. "She didn't like you much."

"Oh, no, I'm so offended," you said flatly. 

Michonne laughed. "I thought you would be. She said Shane was a tough bastard. I tend to agree. She also said he was way too obsessed with you and Lori. Lori was Rick's wife, right? Carl and Judith's mother?" 

You glanced at her in confusion before you started laughing. "I forgot you weren't with us the whole time. Shit. You don't have any idea about this crazy group, do you?" 

She shook her head. "Only what I've been able to figure out and what Andrea told me." 

"God, we must seem nuts to you," you said with a shake of your head. You couldn't imagine being dropped into the mismash that was your little family unit. 

"Oh, just a bit," Michonne murmured.

You flashed her an appreciative grin. "Well, you hold up rather well, let me tell you. I don't think I could believe the weird connections of this bizarre group if I hadn't lived through it's formation. Sometimes I still don't believe how much we're connected. Rick saved me in King County, where Shane- his partner- had locked me up right at the beginning of the outbreak. Then I found out Merle and Daryl were with Shane, Rick's wife and kid, and everyone else in Atlanta. Rick handcuffed Merle to the roof and he got left there- I wasn't there at the time- and that's when he cut off his hand and disappeared. Carl got shot and we found Hershel, Maggie, and Beth because of the man who shot him. Judith is Shane's daughter because he and Lori thought Rick was dead from some fuckup before the virus started. Oh, and Shane and I hooked up, while Daryl and I were still broken up. Then Shane and Andrea hooked up. Daryl and I got back together." You frowned, trying to think of what else she needed to know. "And I put down Carol's daughter when she was found as a walker. In Hershel's barn. Oh my God, we're all insane." 

Michonne tried to hide the laughter but it didn't work. You chuckled as well, and then you'd reached the barrier you and Shane had both almost died trying to put back up. You looked at it and sighed. 

"I cannot believe I almost died for this thing and Dixon came along and tore it down," you muttered. 

She snorted and sheathed her sword. "At least he only partially broke it. Come on, we'd better get set up. We probably don't have long."

"Good. I hate waiting for shit." 

 

 

Your eyes popped open and you heard the creak outside your door. You rolled your eyes and held yourself still, watching the way the shadows changed in the crack underneath the door. 

Five steps one way; five steps back. Over and over and over again. 

This was the hardest part. Knowing it was going to happen had become so goddamn routine by now that you dropped off to sleep without even thinking about it most nights. Then you popped awake and just- waited. 

Waiting sucked ass. 

It wasn't like you were a naturally patient person. And waiting to go sneak over to Daryl's room and catch a few more hours of sleep- the best you'd get all night- was even more annoying, since you were supposed to be safe enough to sleep in your own fucking house. 

Fuck CPS. You'd been better rested in the group home, at least. 

Five steps one way; five steps back. Another minute ticked down. 

Only twenty-five more to go before the pacing stopped, at least. You started mentally taking apart Merle's bike again, naming all the parts and what they did as you went. You'd disassembled and cleaned the whole damn thing before he stopped pacing and started the second part of his nightly routine. 

Thank God, you'd be able to leave soon.

 

 

You were just finishing up getting the barricade back in place but easy to open up again (which was harder than it sounded; Jesus) when you heard the noise in the leaves. You tapped Michonne's arm and eased the rifle on your back around. She reached for her sword, both of you ducking back behind some of the rubble as you watched and waited. 

After a moment, a familiar shape came through the trees. 

You stared for a minute through the scope, seriously thinking about shooting at him just for the hell of it. You weren't planning on hitting him or anything. Just scaring the shit out of him, for his own stupidity. That'd be ok, right? 

Ugh, better not, you finally decided. The Governor's people could be closing in any minute now, and you didn't want to alert him before the trap was sprung. 

You shoved the rifle back onto your back and stepped up, crossing your arms and glaring. Shane pulled up short as he saw you. 

"Where the hell have you been?" you asked as he started moving again, coming closer. 

"Did Rick get my message?" he countered, not answering your question. 

You snorted, not dropping your wary pose. You could see Michonne scanning the trees and eyeing you, but she didn't say anything as you confronted Shane. "He did. Still want to know where the hell you've been." 

"I had something I had to do," he muttered, looking away from you as he shifted his feet. 

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, you said that. Not cryptic at all, officer." 

Shane's shoulders jerked when you called him 'officer' and he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. "I- shit," he broke off as the roar of engines started echoing through the trees. 

You looked at Michonne. "That's our cue. Guess you're with me, Walsh. Michonne, see you on the flip side." 

She tipped her sword in a salute and headed one way into the boiler block. You started hustling down the halls in the opposite direction, and Shane fell in behind you. You winced as explosions sounded from outside the prison. 

"Bet that's the guard towers," you whispered to Shane. 

"What's the plan, criminal?" he whispered back. 

You flashed him a smile, forgetting for a moment that he was the one who'd kept you from saving Merle. "Rick's got a whole thing worked out. Keep quiet. When the lights and sirens go off, we herd the walkers and the people." 

"What walkers?" he asked. 

You eased an eye around a corner and smirked at him. "Those walkers."


	90. (Don't Fear) The Reaper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past child abuse

"So his plan is to wait for them to come down here, flip the switch on the alarms, and run them out," Shane asked. 

You were leaning side by side against the wall whispering as you waited. The walkers hadn't noticed you yet; too busy with the carcass Daryl had drug into place and used to lure them. There were two more hot spots, each guarded by some of your own. Michonne had headed out to meet Carol at hers, and Daryl was in place with another. They'd argued that you should have the chaperone, due to the knife that'd been stuck in your side and all, but Carol had quietly said that she was the one who needed backup the most. With Shane creeping back in at the last minute, you'd gotten backup after all. 

Daryl would be pleased. Probably. 

"Yep," you answered Shane. 

"And then what?" he asked. 

You gave him an odd look. "Maggie and Glenn shoot them up, they leave us the fuck alone. In the crazy, someone hopefully kills the bastard." 

"Hopefully," he repeated. He met your eyes. "Why not make sure of it?" 

You scoffed. "Well, shit, officer. I never thought about that. Why didn't you suggest it earlier?" 

He rolled his eyes. "Bitch. I mean, when we're done making sure the walkers are down, then what? What's our role?" 

"Then we join the others and regroup," you said with a shrug. "What the hell do you want, Walsh? We're scattered around here." 

"Exactly," he said, shoving a hand through his hair. It was even longer now than it had been when you'd met him in King County and at the quarry, and you smirked as it stood straight up from his head. 

"The fuck are you blathering about, man?" you asked again. 

"We go out the back. The barricade's only loosely in place so the others can get in when the signal goes up. We sneak out before them, follow the Governor's tracks, take him out." 

You lifted both eyebrows at him. "Going after him alone got Merle killed, Shane. I'm not doing that again." 

His eyes slid from yours guiltily. "That's fair, I guess. I'll do it myself then." 

"Shane, don't be a dumbass, you can't-" You broke off as you heard a gate slam up ahead. 

You whipped up your rifle, meeting Shane's eyes as he did the same. You were all business now as you heard soft clatters and the hiss of voices. 

The walkers around the corner could have heard them too, but they were busy with the dead animal Daryl'd drug in. You and Shane were there to lead them toward the living people if they needed the guidance when the signal came. 

That, you hoped, would be very soon, because ok- you got lost down here before, and sound was known to do weird things in places like this, but those noises sounded awfully close to your position. 

Maybe you wouldn't have to worry about Shane doing something stupid like running off after the Governor alone after all. 

 

 

You fidgeted with the line, reeling it in a little and then back out. 

"Stop that," Daryl snapped, reaching over and slapping a hand over yours on the reel. "Ya gotta wait." 

You groaned. "Why?" 

"'Cause the fish don't like it when they have to work for food," he muttered back. 

"I don't like working for food either!" 

Merle chuckled from Daryl's other side. He had a line in the water as well, sitting with a stillness you only saw from him in moments like this. Daryl was more naturally patient, you'd noticed over the last few months; able to find that zen state more quickly and in more varied circumstances. For Merle, it was only when he was out in the woods, waiting for something to bite or to walk across his path. 

You, on the other hand, were a ball of constant energy no matter the circumstances. Like now. Daryl had let go of your rod, and now you twitched it back and forth to the rhythm of "Back In Black". 

"The hell ya doin' now, girlie?" Merle asked. 

You shrugged. "I've got AC/DC stuck in my head." 

"God, ya really are shit at this, ya know that?" Daryl muttered, and took the pole from your hands. 

You grinned at him, utterly unoffended. "Yup." 

 

 

You could see the beams from their flashlights up ahead. Shane's hand came to your shoulder and gripped it hard, clearly questioning what the hell you were supposed to do. 

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out the flash-bang grenade you'd been given for this exact situation. You held it up so Shane could see, then pointed up the hall. He squeezed your shoulder once and let go. 

You slid forward in the darkness and eased around the corner. Shane came behind you, covering the still-munching walkers. You glanced up the next turn in the hallway, and there they were. Flashlights speared into the darkness, his people searching rooms off each side as they came. You took a deep breath, knowing it would be any second now. 

You ducked back around so one of those beams wouldn't accidentally give you away. You glanced at Shane and he was looking at you, and you nodded to each other again. 

"Got my whole damn world in ya hands right now, and I ain't ready to say goodbye." Merle's words echoed in your mind, an ache that rose up unexpectedly. 

You weren't ready to say goodbye either, but you'd had to. Goddamn it. If Rick didn't start shit soon, you were going to do it yourself. 

Another agonizing moment went by as they came closer to the corner. You looked at the alarm light on the wall and ground your teeth together, then glanced at the zombies up the hallway. 

One of them had lost interest in the corpse and was standing again, fresh creature blood joining the undead rot on its chin. It hadn't noticed you and Shane yet, but it was just a matter of time. Everything was just a matter of time. 

Goddamn it. 

You tapped Shane on the shoulder and held up three fingers. He touched your elbow in acknowledgement as you looked around the corner again. At his touch you lowered it to two fingers, the one, then pulled the pin and chucked the flash-bang around the corner. 

 

 

Holidays weren't really a thing for either you or the Dixons. Most Christmases went by without more than a small gift hurled your way by your foster dad; birthdays were nothing more than another day; and Thanksgiving was the worst of all. Your foster mom would be all over the place like when CPS was due, and you'd run away to the woods nearly every year, and take the punishment instead of dealing with that shit. 

But the Fourth of July was better. Not because your family did anything special, but because fireworks were fireworks, and you could see them from where ever you happened to be. Usually out by the river with Daryl and Merle. 

This year was even better. Merle was grinning when you slid out of your window and darted to meet them at the edge of the woods, and you eyed him and the bag he was clutching suspiciously. 

You glanced at Daryl. "What's up with him?" 

"I dunno," Daryl shrugged. "Been actin' like he ate the damn canary all day." 

"You'll see, kiddos!" Merle said with a smirk. "C'mon." 

At your usual spot, he opened the bag and dumped it on the ground. Your eyes got wide and you felt the smile slowly forming on your cheeks. All kinds of fireworks lay there in an inviting pile of forest fire potential that called to you like a siren's song.

"Oh, shit, yes," you breathed, and Merle and Daryl laughed. 

 

 

The alarm started blaring seconds after the flash bang went off, which was a huge relief, if you were being honest. The walkers noticed right away, and came stumbling toward the two of you with your very alive, pounding heartbeats. 

Maybe the racing heart was just you, though. Whatever; it didn't matter. You had the rifle up and followed Shane across the hall to the open doorway that had been left for exactly this purpose. The two of you ducked in and pulled the cell door closed as the walkers came stumbling toward you. 

You held your breath as they ignored your door completely in favor of the screaming, running, shooting bodies just around the corner. The screaming intensified as the walkers came in sight, and as soon as you'd counted all ten of the ones who'd been around your particular carcass, you shoved the door open and followed on their heels. Shane came with you, shaking his head in clear disbelief. 

The Governor's people folded like a house of cards. They were crying and running for the exit, shooting at something- hopefully the other two groups of walkers, set to converge on them fairly well, if Rick had mapped this place out correctly- and over the chaos, you could hear the Governor screaming for them to hold their ground. 

Your world narrowed to the sound of his voice as you followed the zombies like a deadly fucking shadow.


	91. You Know You're Crazy, Oh Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> drinking/alcoholism

His people found out real soon that getting outside wasn't much better. As soon as you were certain they were heading for the exit, you started shooting down the walkers. You and Shane made quick work of them as Carol and Michonne charged up from another hallway. 

"Daryl?" you asked, glancing them over for bites. 

"Went to meet Rick for phase two when his walkers met ours. He'll meet us outside," Carol answered. 

You nodded and swung the rifle over your shoulder. "Walkers all down?" 

"Should be. We'll do a more thorough sweep once we're done," Carol said. 

"YN. Where's Shane?" Michonne asked suddenly. 

You turned to look behind you and sure enough, Walsh had fucking disappeared. 

"Oh, fucking damn it!" you moaned, kicking at a convenient zombie head. He was gone. Motherfucker had slipped out while you weren't looking. He was going out there alone. 

"It's like he's trying to get himself killed, and me with him," you told the zombie you'd just kicked. "He had the bright idea to go after the Governor, just the two of us, before Hershel and his people come in this way. Shitballs. He said he'd go alone when I told him that was a dumbass plan." 

You looked from the door to C block and the darkness of the tombs. Gunfire and screaming from outside meant you had seconds to make a decision. 

"Shit!" you snarled again. You were already moving as you pointed at Michonne and Carol. "You make sure they come after us! Get the others and bring them as fast as you can!" 

"YN!" Carol yelled after you, but you were already running.

 

 

He was easy enough to follow, since he left enough of a trail in broken plants and disturbed leaves for even you to see. Then, of course, there were the dead walkers that liberally decorated the trail around the prison. When you saw him watching from just off the road, staring at the distant sounds of gunfire and the revving of engines, you stepped on a twig deliberately to make it crack.

"What the hell are you doing?" Shane hissed when he whirled and saw you. 

"Me?" you shot back, gesturing to him. "What about you? Shit! Fucking sneaking off like that."

He ran his hand over his hair twice in a row, and you laughed. He glared harder. "I told you I'd do it alone." 

"Why the fuck are you trying to die too, asshole? Don't you think I've had enough?" you asked him, irritated and tired. 

He paused in the angry stalk he'd started doing through the trees, parallel the road. He glanced at you, looking like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure what to say or if it was the right time, and shoved a hand through his hair. You heaved a long sigh and stared walking on past him. 

"What are you-" he cut himself off as you shot him a glance over your shoulder. He shoved the hand through his hair again and took several rapid strides to catch up with you, falling into step easily at your side. He kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye. 

Finally you shrugged. "Look, do I think you might have actually reached your peak dumbass in this moment in time? Yes, yes I do. But you're out here now, and I'm not going to let you get killed," you told him truthfully. You ducked a low hanging branch and snorted as the leaves hit him in the face because he was looking over his shoulder instead of where he was going. 

"Dammit," he muttered, then grabbed your arm and yanked you down behind a bush as you heard engines approach. Trucks sped by the two of you, careening around the curve in the road, the Woodbury people trying desperately to escape. 

"Well," you muttered when the last one sped by, the Governor leaning out the passenger side and looking pissed as all hell. "I guess they're heading that way. Look, Daryl and company will be on our heels soon. I told Michonne to make them all come after us as soon as they could." 

Shane eyed you. "Gonna be in trouble with Dixon." 

You scoffed and shrugged. "I'm never not in trouble with Dixon. Come on, Officer. Let's go kill this asshole once and for all, ok?" 

 

 

 

"Look here, baby girl. The thing about bein' a good little soldier- or a good little enforcer- is ya gotta follow orders," Merle declared, gesturing with his half-empty whiskey glass. 

You rolled your eyes and took a sip from the matching glass he'd insisted on ordering for you. Goddamn, Merle was drinking the good stuff tonight. "What the hell do you think I'm doing right now, Merle?" you asked him, waving a hand at him.

He grinned and tried to pat your cheek, but missed completely. You sighed, set your glass down on the bar and pushed up from where you'd leaned one elbow against it. 

"Come on, brother. Up and at 'em," you said, grabbing his hand and tugging. He came fairly willingly, and you met the eyes of the Nameless on bar duty. He nodded and waved you away. 

That was, in your opinion, the best part of fishing Merle from the Crow itself. You never really had to worry about making sure you paid before you left, since they'd just take it from his next check if you didn't toss money down. 

Merle leaned against you pretty heavily, and you hoped he didn't pass out before you got home, since he would be riding the bitch seat. The call you'd gotten had just said he was too drunk to drive, but not so bad as to need more than just a ride. 

"I'm tellin' ya, girlie. Most of them people ya meet? Just doin' what they're told. Good or bad, don't make no difference. Ya give a soldier an order, he follows it. Remember that, darlin'- ain't the soldier ya need to take out. It's the general," Merle slurred in your ear as you walked him to your bike. 

You were only halfway listening, focused instead on keeping you both upright and not knocking over any of the bikes filling the area in front of the Crow as you went. Members and hangers-on waved and called out greetings to you both as you passed, and you nodded and smiled back. 

"Sure thing, Merle. If I ever wage war, I'll remember to take out the general," you grunted as you reached your Softail. "Now get on the bike and try to stay upright, ok? If I'd realized you were this pissed I've have just called a cab." 

 

 

You didn't have to go far. Maybe half a mile up the road from the prison, you got to the treeline and saw the whole convoy stopped in the road, people out of the vehicles and yelling. 

You swung the rifle around as you got your breathing under control. You were in the best shape you'd been in for probably your entire life, what with the fairly constant running and all, but still. Running was running, and it left you winded. Even Shane was breathing hard beside you. 

You set the scope to your eye and started angling for a clear shot, but there were too many people in the way. You had the Governor in your sights, but someone's head kept coming in and out of view. 

"Damn it!" you muttered as you lost your angle for the fourth time. "No dice. Shane, what have you got?"

Shane made a frustrated noise from beside you. "People in the way. We shooting through them?" His tone was cold and harsh, and you winced a little.

You wanted him dead, but not enough to shoot someone else. Not enough to take out some foot soldier who was just following orders. "No, we're not shooting through the people. Fuck, Walsh. They're just scared and trying to keep their own safe. You know he's a damn liar."

"Just checking. Don't get your panties in a twist, criminal," Shane said with a shrug. You took one hand from your gun long enough to flip him off, even though you were pretty sure he was too busy aiming to see it. 

"You just flipped me the bird, didn't you?" Shane said after a beat, and you laughed. 

You didn't laugh long. Shots rang out from the field, echoing from the trees as cold fingers ran down your spine. What in the hell were you seeing right now?

"Holy shit," you whispered as the Governor kept shooting his own people and they screamed. Your eyes wide, you lowered your gun and looked at the officer. "Shane. Walsh, are you-?" 

"I see it," he said grimly. "What the fuck? What the actual fuck?" 

You snapped the gun back up as the shooting paused for a beat and resumed, panning desperately to take this crazy motherfucker down. His people had fled into the field and he'd fucking given chase, and was mowing them down from behind. You kept searching for the right angle, but you couldn't even see the bastard. "I can't get a shot. Shane, I can't- do you have one?" 

"No," he said. "He's behind one of the trucks. I've got no angle." 

"Shit!" you snapped. "Can we get any-"

The shooting stopped again. You glued your eye to the scope, still hoping there'd be something, anything you could do. No one in the field so much as twitched. 

Then movement caught your eye, and he stepped forward just enough that you could maybe, maybe, get a shot at his shoulder through one of the trucks. 

"I- shit. I've got a crap shot, but it's the only one we've got," you muttered. You shifted slightly, lining it up through a gap in the bed of a truck. "I'm taking it." 

"Do it," Shane agreed, sounding as stunned and horrified as you felt. 

You drew in a breath, adjusted minutely again, and said a quick prayer for good measure. Then you exhaled sharply and squeezed the trigger. 

In the scope, the Governor jerked and staggered, red appearing on his sleeve. "Holy shit," you said. "Holy shit! I hit him!" 

Your celebration didn't last long, though, since he disappeared right into a truck with Martinez and some other asshole- the last members of his army left standing. 

"Damn it!" Shane growled, clearly seeing the same thing you were and just as unable to get a shot at any of them. "Gonna loose them." 

"Tires!" you called, and fired twice in rapid succession. Shane did the same, but it was too late. The truck peeled out. 

You dropped the rifle and let out a long, angry scream, kicking at the leaves all around for lack of anything better to hurt.


	92. Back In Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

You glanced at Shane as silence descended. "So, should we-?" you gestured vaguely in the direction of the bodies down there. 

Shane grunted, not moving or looking away from the nightmare below. "Yeah," he said after a pause, finally turning wide eyes your way. "Yeah, probably."

Neither of you moved. 

"I mean, they're going to turn if he didn't take the brains. So at the very least, we should go put them down," you said after a minute. 

"Yeah," he agreed. Finally he slung his rifle to his back. You copied his movement, pulling the Governor's knife instead. You headed out from the trees reluctantly, both of you moving slowly. 

"Wish we could follow him," you said as you picked your way to the road. "Should have gotten a vehicle, damn it." 

Shane grunted. "The others'll bring one." 

"How far away will he be by then?" 

 

 

The roar of the Triumph filled the air before you reached the field. You and Shane both stopped and looked back up the road, waiting for them to get in sight. 

Daryl was on the bike, and boy did he look pissed. You winced as he pulled up beside you and jerked his head at you. The car stopped just behind him and Shane opened the back door. You swung over the bike and wrapped your arms around Daryl, and he started forward again without saying a word. 

As soon as he reached the cars and cut the engine you were off and talking. "I had to go after him. He sneaked off while I was busy. I'm supposed to watch people's backs, damn it," you said defiantly, crossing your arms and biting your lip as you waited for him to speak. 

He was staring at the bodies in the field, face pale and eyes narrowed. "What the fuck happened here?" 

"Oh," you muttered, scrubbing a hand over your face as the others piled out of the car behind you. "Yeah. Uh, the Governor shot all but like two of his people. I got him, but Martinez and one of the other guys hauled him into a truck and drove off. We were coming to take care of the walkers when you arrived." 

"Shit," Daryl whispered. 

Michonne was already heading into the field, sword drawn. You headed after her, Governor's knife in your hands, to take care of the bodies. 

"This was a massacre," Rick said, voice troubled, as he and the others joined you. 

You snorted and grabbed a body that lay over a woman. "No shit," you grunted as you sunk the Governor's blade into the man's skull and heaved him aside. 

"We tried to take him out, but there wasn't a shot." Shane's voice was grim, and you glanced at him as you reached down for the woman's body. 

When she grabbed back, you yelped and swung at her, automatically trying to get loose. You were expecting a zombie, but the wide, frightened eyes were pure human. "Wait! I'm not dead!" she cried, voice cracking in fear. 

Multiple guns cocked behind you. 

"Ya gonna want to let go of her real soon," Daryl said firmly. 

You didn't look away from the woman clutching your arm. "I'm fine, Dixon. What's your name? I saw what happened here. I shot him," you told the woman. 

She didn't relax, but she let go of your wrist. "I- I'm Karen. He- he just- he shot them all. He shot them all," she said wildly. 

Rick stepped to your side, giving her the intense-friendly look as he shoved the Python back into his holster. "We're not going to hurt you," he said softly. "Do you know where he went?" 

She looked around your group, clarity slowly returning to her eye as people started putting their guns down. When she looked back at Rick, he held out a hand to her. 

"I'm Rick," he said. 

She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

 

 

"He told us you were crazy. That you'd come into the town and started shooting us up for no reason. We had no idea he had taken your people prisoner," Karen told Rick seriously. 

She was sitting on the tailgate of one of Woodbury's army trucks, sipping from a bottle of water Rick had produced from somewhere in the car. You and Michonne had finished making sure the bodies wouldn't become zombies while Rick, Daryl, and Shane had taken her over and checked her for bites. She'd had a gunshot in the arm, and Daryl had cleaned and bandaged it as best he could. Hershel would need to take a closer look at it later. Maggie and Glenn were keeping an eye on the woods to either side of the road, still in their riot gear from their part of the fight at the prison. 

You leaned against the side of the truck now, listening as she talked. 

"He wanted an army. Tried to get all of us to fight, even an old lady with arthritis and a fourteen year old kid with asthma. It was nuts, but he said- he said you were criminals and killers, and would come after us if we didn't come after you," she continued. 

Shane glanced at you, and you saw the amusement in his eyes. You rolled your own at him and shook your head. 

Karen took a shaky breath. "When you started shooting at us in the prison, we ran. We weren't ready for that! Then he was demanding that we go back. Why the hell would we? We were trying to tell him, if he wanted us to fight the biters, of course we would. But people? No way. We weren't soldiers. We're just people who want to live. He started shooting. Just grabbed his gun and- and-" She shook her head as her eyes filled. "It was awful." 

Rick nodded and touched her shoulder. "We aren't criminals. Or killers." 

"Hey, speak for yourself," you said mildly. Rick shot you a look as Shane grinned. Daryl shook his head at you. 

"Now really the time?" he muttered under his breath.

You shrugged. "I mean, I am a criminal and a killer. The rest of you not so much, but the deputy over there tends to forget who I am and mistake me for a good person. I'm not. And I'm going to find the Governor and kill him slowly. Karen, would he go back to Woodbury?" 

Her eyes were wide again, but she didn't look entirely put off by what you were saying. She looked at you helplessly as she hesitated. "I honestly don't know. I can go with you, though. There are a couple of people who stayed behind to guard the others- the elderly and the children. They're good people, and they know me." 

You nodded firmly. "Good enough for me. Who's coming? Boys?" 

Daryl grabbed your arm and pulled you a few steps away. "Ya should go back to the prison with Maggie and Glenn." 

"How do you know they're going back?" you asked him, putting off the inevitable fight that was about to begin. 

He shot you an annoyed look. "'Cause Rick's gonna say we need to send some people home to defend against the Governor comin' back. Left Carol in charge of Hershel, Beth, and the kids." 

Sure enough, Rick and Shane walked over to the two of you. Rick looked at you and opened his mouth, and you held up a hand to stop him. 

"You want to send some people back. Daryl here thinks I should go with them. I disagree. Send Maggie and Glenn. I'm going to Woodbury." You glanced at Daryl. "I told you, I'm going to kill him." 

Daryl sighed. "Ya still got a hole in your guts, baby." 

"It's stitched closed," you muttered, but you uncrossed your arms and touched his cheek. "I have to see this through, babe. I have to. For Merle." 

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Damn stubborn bitch." 

"Only sometimes, right?" you asked with a smile, then you turned to Rick. "I'm going. Don't argue." 

Rick shook his head at you as well. "Shane said you wouldn't go." 

"Damn right," Shane muttered. "Look, we're wastin' time. Let's get the others on the road- send Michonne with Maggie and Glenn- and take one of the trucks." 

"Michonne won't go either," you said firmly. "And she shouldn't. She knows Woodbury better than any of us. Officer, you should head back with them." 

He didn't respond to your suggestion with words, but his middle finger was eloquent enough. Daryl and Rick both chuckled. 

"Ya been spendin' too much time around my girl, man," Daryl said. Shane's face looked vaguely guilty before he realized Daryl was joking about him flipping you off and he rolled his eyes. 

Goddamn it, you still needed to deal with that nonsense as well. The officer had told you he loved you, and you'd decked him. Not a completely inappropriate reaction, considering your quasi-married status, but still. 

You were going to have to have an awkward and difficult conversation real soon. 

 

 

Maggie and Glenn agreed to go back, and added their own opinions that you and Shane should also return. They were shot down as swiftly as you had shot down Daryl and Rick. They hugged everyone and drove off together. 

Daryl, Rick, and Michonne had their heads together with Karen about what would be the best route there and what to expect when you'd arrived. You frowned out at the bodies in the field, and headed that way. Shane followed you, curiosity evident in the set of his shoulders as he fell into step with you. 

When you dropped to a crouch and started searching the first body, he spoke. "Wish you'd gone back with Maggie and Glenn, criminal." 

You shot him a glare as you tucked a gun into your belt at your back. "Why?" 

"Because you're injured, that's why. What kinda question is that?" 

You looked at him as you rose and moved to the next body. Shane scowled and beat you to bending down. 

"Keep an eye out," he snapped. "I'll search them. You don't need to be twisting around like that." 

"Hardly twisting around, officer," you muttered, but he was probably right. It did kind of hurt. But only when you breathed. "I don't know," you continued after a pause. "Do we need to talk about whatever the fuck's going on, Shane?" you asked seriously. 

His hands paused in the act of lifting a knife from one of the corpses. "We absolutely do not, Nameless." 

You lifted an eyebrow at him. "Does this conversation seem familiar to you, or is it just me? Judas Priest. What is it with us emotionally constipated people? Do we just flock to each other?" 

He gave you an amused look as he rose and moved on. You followed him, and he scooped a gun from the ground and kept working. "You still tolerate me?" he asked. 

You sighed. You could hear the uncertainty in his tone. He genuinely was afraid you'd hate him now. You thought about what you wouldn't have done to save Merle; what you wouldn't do to save Daryl. Even smacking one of them over the head and dragging them away from someone else wasn't off the table entirely. Hell, you'd told Rick you'd do just that, way back when you'd first met Randal. 

Of course, Randal was no Merle Dixon, but still. 

You were silent for long enough that Shane nodded and looked away. "Alright. I get it. For what it's worth, Nameless, I'm sorry," he said quietly. 

"Oh, stuff it, Walsh," you muttered. "I'm pissed and you're an asshole, but I still tolerate you." 

Daryl whistled from by the trucks and waved you over. You lifted a hand in acknowledgement and started his way.


	93. Here It Comes, Here It Comes, Here Comes Your 19th Nervous Breakdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> major character death (cannon)

You and Daryl didn't take the lead for once, because Karen warned that Tyreese and Sasha might be inclined to violence as you approached. It was unanimously decided that the honking big Army vehicle was more equipped to handle bullets than two dumbass Dixons on a bike. 

Sure enough, there was gunfire. You pulled your handgun from your holster and got ready to fire back, but Karen solved the problem by rolling down the truck window and screaming at them to let you in. 

"Well, that's one way to do it," you muttered. 

"Where's the Governor?" A man's voice- you decided to assume it was Tyreese- called back. 

"He fired on everyone. He killed them all. These guys, the ones from the prison- they saved me!" she yelled back. 

Rick's head popped out of the driver's door of the truck. "We're comin' out!" 

"Naw, we ain't," Daryl muttered, but the others were already opening doors and in Shane's case, vaulting from the back of the vehicle. 

You kissed his cheek and swung off the bike, shoving your gun back into place as he grumbled. When the two of you joined the others, standing with Karen in front of the Army truck, the gates swung open. Two people with guns and determined expressions strode out, and you crossed your arms and tried to look intimidating enough that they didn't want to mess with you, but not so intimidating that they started shooting at you again. 

It's a fine line, especially post-apocalypse. 

"What are you doin' here?" the man asked. 

Rick stared and Shane ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at you and there was chagrined wariness in his eyes. He leaned in while Rick answered and whispered something to Daryl. Daryl winced. 

"What?" you asked. 

"Those're some of the people Rick drove out of the prison while we were gone," he whispered back. 

Oh. "Shit." 

"Karen told us Andrea hopped the wall, going for the prison. She never made it. She might be here," Rick was telling a stunned-looking Tyreese, and he had the intense-friendly expression going full-force. 

You shook your head as it worked its magic on yet another person. Tyreese and Sasha led the way, Sasha glancing over all of you with far more suspicious eyes than Tyreese had. Karen put her head together with Sasha and started a low conversation, gesturing to all of you as they walked and talked. 

Daryl ran a hand down your arm and went to catch up with Rick. You watched him, chewing on your lip with a mental wince. You were going to be in so much trouble when you got back home. He hadn't said anything yet, but maybe that just made it worse. Pointed silence had always gotten you in a way being confronted never did.

You and Shane fell into step bringing up the rear. The town might have been safe enough with the wall secure and nearly all the fighters dead, but you didn't like taking chances. Shane didn't either, apparently, turning frequently and walking backward as he scanned the darkness. 

"You're gonna be in a shit load of trouble, Nameless," he told you with a smirk when Daryl shot a look over his shoulder. 

You waved at Daryl, who nodded and kept moving forward, and rolled your eyes hard at Shane. "If I am, it's your fault." 

 

 

 

"The Governor held people here?" Tyreese asked when you reached the shack where you'd found Glenn and Maggie and where you'd annoyed Martinez before escaping. Sasha and Karen had branched off somewhere- to go check in with the other Woodbury survivors, you assumed- and the place seemed largely deserted. 

"He did more than hold 'em," you heard Daryl answer. He and Rick were weapons up at the front of the line, Michonne and Tyresse in the middle, and you and Shane bringing up the rear. 

None of you really expected to have any problems at this point- the town was as safe and peaceful as Tyreese had claimed- but the man himself was out there somewhere. You drew in a deep breath, trying to settle the ball of anger that rose screaming in your throat when you thought about that. 

He was out there, injured but alive. You should be trying to find him, damn it. 

The group slowed, and you and Shane pulled closer curiously. The others were staring at a puddle of fresh blood leaking under a locked door. Shane stiffened and pushed forward past Tyreese and Daryl, and you remembered that he and Andrea had been close once upon a time. Well, they'd fucked anyway. It might not have meant much to him, but seeing another person naked did tend to make you at least get worried when there was a big puddle of blood under the door you suspected they were behind. 

"Damn it," you whispered as Rick glanced at Michonne. 

"Will you open it?" Michonne asked, and you heard the carefully controlled worry in her tone. 

Daryl dropped back toward you and let Shane cover them as Rick opened the door. You winced as you saw the dead guy on the floor, and Michonne's pained exclamation of Andrea's name tugged at your heart. 

Michonne was through the door and at Andrea's side before you really registered that those were feet there in the doorway. Rick and Shane were right on her heels, and you reached for Daryl's hand. One look at her pale, sweaty face was enough for you to know she wasn't going to make it. 

"I tried to stop them," she said weakly to Rick. 

Michonne put a hand on Andrea's forehead. "You're burning up." 

Andrea's lips twitched in a faint smile, and she peeled back her jacket with a pained grunt. There was a massive bite in her shoulder, and your grip on Daryl's hand tightened. He held on just as much in return. Maybe you and Andrea hadn't been close, but she didn't deserve this. No one did. 

Shane's head dropped and he turned, taking two steps away and drawing in a hard breath as he stared open-eyed at the floor. 

"Judith. Carl. The rest of them..." Andrea asked weakly, and Rick shook his head and reached for her hand. 

"Us. The rest of us," he told her. 

"Are they alive?" 

Rick nodded. "Yeah. They're alive." 

Andrea smiled. She grabbed Michonne's hand and looked into her eyes. "It's good you found them. No one can make it alone now." She glanced over at you and Daryl. 

Daryl shook his head. "I never could," he said quietly, and he pulled you to his side as Andrea's smile widened. 

Shane came back and knelt at her side, touching her face gently. "Hey, girl." 

"Shane," she said with a weak chuckle. "Too late to ride off into the sunset on our own?" 

He laughed softly. "Naw. You grab a car; I'll meet you at the gate." 

She leaned her cheek into his fingers. "Eh. We'd have never worked out anyway. Keep your head on straight. Watch out for these guys." 

He nodded silently, and her eyes turned to you. "Watch out for him, would you? Two of you watching their backs, they'll be alright." 

You smiled at her. "That's my job, isn't it?" 

"Damn right," she murmured. You nodded at her and she looked back at Rick. "I just didn't want anyone to die." 

Rick shook his head wordlessly, unable to answer. 

Andrea sighed and shifted herself upright some more, tone hardening. "I can do it myself." 

"No," Michonne choked out. There were tears running down her face, and you hurt for her. You knew what this was like. 

"I have to," Andrea countered. "While I still can." She turned to Rick. "Please? I know how the safety works." 

You snorted and reached into your holster. You pulled out you gun as Rick shook his head, looking pained. "Here," you told her, handing it to her. "See you later, Andrea." 

She took it and nodded. "See you later, YN." 

You left first, leaning against the wall outside the room as the others talked to her more. Daryl was the next to emerge, and he reached for you as soon as he came out. You moved into his arms, leaning against him as he wrapped himself loosely around you. Tyreese glanced at the two of you, but didn't say anything. Rick and Shane came out together, both of them looking devastated. You held out a hand to Shane and he took it, holding on with his eyes closed. 

Daryl ran a hand over your hair before gripping Shane's shoulder, linking the three of you for a moment. Shane's eyes shot open and met Daryl's. You watched as the two of them did that manly nod thing before Shane let go of your hand to lean against the wall beside Daryl. You felt like an entire conversation had just happened that you had no part of, but honestly, right now you didn't care. Everyone was hurting, and you needed each other.

You kissed Daryl's cheek before moving between the two of them, grabbing each of their hands in your own and tipping your head to Daryl's shoulder. 

Andrea was family, damn it. 

You closed your eyes as you waited, and flinched when the shot echoed. 

 

 

Rick and Tyreese discussed. Sasha, who had rejoined the party at some point, put in her opinion; Shane threw in his. You watched it all with wary eyes, and eventually they made the exact decision you'd known they would.

The remaining citizens of Woodbury packed up, loaded onto a school bus that had been armored with sheet metal, and followed you back to the prison. They were just people, after all. 

The sun was rising as you rode back, arms wrapped around Daryl and chin on his shoulder. Shit, it'd been a long day; a long, sad night. You were tired and sad and probably in trouble with Daryl. 

And the Governor was still out there, damn it.


	94. In the Midst, I Think Of You and How It Used to Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Daryl pulled you inside your cell pretty much immediately and shoved you onto the bare mattress. Everyone's shit had been unloaded from the cars, but Carol hadn't made it to making all the beds yet. He tossed his poncho at you and growled a command to sleep. 

"What about you?" you asked, annoyed. 

He rolled his eyes. "Gonna help get people settled and make sure there's someone on watch. Then I'll be back." 

"I can help get people settled," you said, starting to stand up. 

He glared and pointed at the bed. "I ain't the one with a stab wound. Sit ya ass down on that bed, lay down, and go the fuck to sleep. I'll be back." 

Rick was walking by your cell as Daryl spoke and stuck his head in. "Do what he says. We've got it covered." 

You scowled at them both, but didn't move. Goddamn prison mattress felt amazing.

 

 

 

You didn't know how much later it was, but you'd definitely done some sleeping. You felt fingers brush your cheek lightly, and your eyes opened. 

Daryl winced. "Sorry, baby. Didn't mean to wake you." 

You yawned and sat up, scrubbing at your eyes. "How long have I been out?" you asked. 

"A few hours," he answered with a shrug. "Got people assigned cells. Got Carl up in the tower, and cleanup's begun. Came to check on you." 

"And why the hell are you checking on me and not sleeping yourself like you said you would?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He rolled his. "'Cause there's shit to do and I ain't tired." 

"Bullshit. You are tired, but you're ignoring it because there's shit to do," you accused with a roll of your eyes as you rose. "That's fine. I'm going to remember this, though, and use it next time I need you to do something and you don't want to." 

He scoffed. "Girl, ya ran off with Shane alone after the Governor. Again. I've got like four hundred more argument wins before we're close to even." 

"Ha! Now that's bullshit too. I ran off after Shane, who ran off after the Governor. There's a difference." You smirked, stepping closer to him. He reached for you and you went into his arms easily, pressing your lips to his for a long moment. When you pulled back, you gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, though. I know you're getting tired of me doing crazy shit." 

He snorted and kissed you again. "Ya wouldn't be you if ya weren't doin' crazy shit, baby. I'm used to it by now." 

You sighed. "Well, the stakes are a little higher these days." 

"Are they? People died before this shit too." 

You leaned against him and felt your eyes start to burn. "We should have brought him back to bury," you said suddenly, voice hoarse. "We just left him there." 

Daryl flinched, but he ran a hand down your back in an absent gesture of comfort. "We couldn't have brought him back then, baby. We only had the bike. We'll go back. Bring him home," he whispered, resting his chin on your head. "Ain't like he cares. Merle'd have only wanted a last ride anyway." 

You chuckled and wiped tears from your eyes. "Yeah. We'll have to see if we can't scare up some kind of Nameless-style wake for him, I guess." 

"Shit, girl. Ain't tryin' to kill everyone here are ya?" Daryl laughed. You did too, rolling your eyes at him with a smile.

"Shut up, asshole. Shane and Michonne brought Andrea, right? You didn't have her service while I was out, did you?" 

He shook his head as you pulled away from him. "Naw. We been busy with other stuff. Gonna have to clear out the walkers; try to fix the gates first. Get the field back." 

You scooped up your rifle from beside the bed and raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, let's go then. Come on, Dixon, we've got some zombie killing to do." 

 

 

 

The field was cleared. Zombie bodies were being loaded into a couple of trucks by Maggie, Glenn, and Tyreese. After the field was taken, Shane, Rick, and Daryl got started building temporary gates and walker traps, until the twisted metal hulks that were the main gates got fixed and put back. 

You eyed the spikes and shit they'd put together with something approaching concern, and casually commented to Michonne that it looked like a crazy motherfucker had put that together. She was standing watch with you over the boys, and she'd glanced at you in surprise. 

"One did. Morgan. Rick and I ran into him with Carl on that supply run," she told you. 

You blinked at her and promptly yelled at Rick to fill you in on Morgan. He'd saved the deputy, after all, and by extension your criminal ass. Shame about his kid. That sucked, as did the crazy he'd picked up because of it. You and Rick had shared a sad look over that, and you decided you'd make it back that way to check in on him when you could. 

Once the temporary gates and barricades were in place, Shane and Michonne grabbed shovels and went to work in the little graveyard area you'd begun with Lori, T Dog, and Carol's graves. Of course, Carol's had been removed, but still. It was the place for her. You studied the crosses sadly for a moment as they worked, wishing Lori was around to ask what the hell to do about the Shane situation. 

Wait, maybe not.

But still. You missed your people. And you wished, again, that you could add a marker for Merle. Maybe if there was something like that, it'd start to feel real.

 

 

You and Daryl went back with Rick and started hauling bodies out as well. They wouldn't let you do any of the actual lifting and all, so you got to make helpful suggestions, hum rock and roll until even Daryl was looking at you like he wanted to gag you or knock you out, and then drive the truck outside the gates while Daryl held your hand and finally gave in and joined you in a rousing chorus of "Pour Some Sugar On Me". Rick and Glenn banged on the back window of the truck, begging both of you to shut the hell up, while Tyreese laughed. 

You thought you might like that guy. 

After the bodies were dumped and the bonfire lit, it was back inside to bury Andrea. The laughter and trash talk faded into quiet looks as your little group huddled together and the Woodbury people stood off to the other side. It seemed Andrea had taken over a great deal of leadership in Woodbury at one point, and the people there had loved her too. 

Hershel held his Bible and read some passages, spoke about Andrea, and invited others to do so. Rick took him up on it, then Shane spoke as well, holding Judith against his shoulder and swaying to keep her asleep. You'd been right the first time you saw him with her; parenthood looked good on him. Michonne said a few quiet sentences, and then it was over. 

It was over, and you were more determined than ever to bring Merle back. The horrifying thought that maybe walkers had found him and had a feast slammed into you and you froze, halfway back with your group. 

"Dixon-" you started to speak, but Rick jogged over and yelled Daryl's name. You hesitated, but waved him on over to Rick with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. He eyed you for a minute, but eventually went. He was holding it together really fucking well, mostly for your benefit, and you didn't want to add something else to his shoulders that might not be anything but your own worries. Maybe. Probably.

Oh God, you needed to find out.

You hesitated, glancing out over the field and the temporary gates, considering. Carl was on watch in the tower now, and you still had the rifle slung over your back. You bit your lip for a long minute, holding a rapid internal debate complete with false starts and freezing in place, but- 

Fuck it. You wanted Merle home. 

You headed for the cars, knowing the keys would still be in the now-empty pickup. Someone needed to check on the bonfire anyway, you rationalized it in your mind. You'd be killing two birds with one stone. They could hardly get mad at you for that, right? 

Shit, they'd be pissed. They'd get over it, though. 

"Nameless!" Shane's voice had you pausing, hand on the Ram's door. 

You looked near him instead of at him as he strode up, knowing full well you looked guilty. "Someone needs to check on the bonfire?" you told him, but it came out as a question. 

Shane snorted, calling your bullshit with an amused glance and a jerk of his head toward the truck. "Well, get in then, criminal. I'll come with you." 

"Ugh," you muttered, but you wrenched open the door as he headed to the passenger side. 

 

 

"So where are we really going?" Shane asked dryly as Carl open the gates for you. 

You pulled through and checked to make sure Carl got them closed all the way before you started down the road. "We're going to check on the bonfire, Officer." 

"Ok," he said slowly. He turned and smirked at you. "Then where are we going?" 

You sighed. "I want to bring Merle back," you said softly. 

Damn the way your eyes filled when you said his name. Damn the burn at the back of your throat, and the ache in your chest and lungs. 

"Walsh?" you asked after a beat. 

He was looking at you, sympathy all over his face. "Yeah?" 

You glanced between him and the road, the churning in your gut that had won the internal debate flaring up and forcing you to give voice to what you were thinking. "What if- what if they found him? The dead? I don't know if-" 

"They won't," he cut you off as you pulled up next to the smoldering bonfire of twice-dead assholes. 

Tyreese and Sasha sat in a car keeping an eye on the fire and the woods around it, clearly having had the same idea you did. Which, you thought with a scowl, was probably why Shane had seen right through your bullshit response. You stopped the truck and waved to them, flashing a thumbs up with a questioning face. They each flashed it back and you nodded, throwing the truck in reverse. 

"How the hell do you know?" you asked Shane when you were on the move again, mind refusing to let go of the horrifying mental image of zombies destroying the man who meant so much to you. 

You couldn't- wouldn't- say eating him. That was too much. You swallowed against the urge to puke just thinking about it. 

He shifted in his seat, tapping the window absently with the back of his fingers as he turned to look back down the road behind you. "I went there," he said quietly. 

"You what?" you snapped, slamming the brakes in the middle of the road. You threw it in park and turned in the seat so you could stare at him properly. 

He looked over at you, meeting your eyes and shrugging. You saw right through that forced bravado to the way he was holding himself tight and studying your face like he was trying to decide just how pissed you were. "I went there. Before the attack, that's where I had to go." 

"Why?" 

He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with the shotgun standing in the floorboard before he answered. "I hate- I couldn't bring him back. Couldn't save him; couldn't let you go after him; couldn't bring him back for you. But I could-" 

He cut off and shook his head, reaching halfway up like he was going to do the head thing, but stopping himself. Finally he glared in your direction. 

"I know what I said. We don't need to talk about it, ok? I can deal. I will deal. But I meant it, sweetheart. I had to do something. Anything to make it better." His eyes softened as he looked at you, and saw his hand move like he wanted to reach out and touch you but held himself back. "I got him down. Covered him with a sheet I took with me. I was going to bring him back, but- I thought maybe you'd want to do that on your own. The two of you. So I chained the doors instead, so nothing could get in there to him." 

You were staring, torn between embarrassment and gratitude and not really sure what to say. 

"Shane-" you started, but he shook his head, pulling back when you finally reached for him. 

"No. Don't- we aren't talking about it, Nameless. Ok? I'm fine. Let's just go, before Dixon decides to kill me in my sleep so you won't keep runnin' around and getting into shit with me," he smirked at you as he said it, but he wouldn't meet your eyes for long.

You studied him a minute longer as he shifted in the seat again, leaning on the door with one elbow and squinting out the window deliberately instead of looking at you. After a heartbeat you restarted the truck and got moving again. 

"Thank you," you whispered to him, not looking from the empty road ahead. 

In the corner of your eye, you saw his shoulders drop for just a second before he shrugged and said it was nothing. 

You knew better. 

 

 

Shane had been right; nothing had gotten in. He tried to get you to let him do all the work, citing your stitches, but you gave him a blank stare and scooped up Merle's shoulders. Shane sighed and grabbed his feet, and you carried him to the truck together. 

You didn't move the sheet or try to look at him. You didn't want to see that again. You just needed to bring him home. 

Shane hesitated in the passenger door of the truck as you slid behind the wheel, then looked at you firmly. "Wait here. Don't look, ok?" 

"What?" you asked, confused, but he was already moving. 

"Just- stay put!" he called, and hopped into the bed. 

Your jaw tightened, but you didn't watch and let him do whatever he was doing. It took a couple of minutes, but then he came around to your side slowly. 

"If I'm wrong, I'll put it back," he said softly. "But I thought you might want this." 

In his hands was Merle's vest. 

Tears spilled instantly. You looked away and took a shaky breath, and saw Shane take a half step closer, reaching for your shoulder hesitantly. You swallowed hard and nodded, closing your eyes for just a moment. 

Merle's grin when the president traded his prospect patch for a full-member one. Merle's hard hugs when you got both of your own. Merle's colors on a winding road ahead of you, racing the wind to see who was faster. Merle's vest in your closet, waiting for him to come home from war. Merle's smirk when you got your Nameless tattoo in the same place he had his, Daryl rolling his eyes and making a sarcastic comment about couple's tattoos being trashy. Both you and Merle flipping him off in tandem. 

You opened your eyes and smiled, taking the vest from Shane and running your fingers over the supple leather. You kissed Shane's cheek, hand lingering on his arm. 

"Thank you," you whispered again. "Just- thank you."


	95. Don't Have To Live Like A Refugee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Nameless wakes were wild parties after a final ride. The whole damn club- anyone who could sit a bike- wore colors and rode. Bikes were washed, work was skipped, police were notified ahead of time that it was a funeral and not a damn war. You rode at least an hour, the dead carried with a loved one who was in the club or with the president. Non members who rode were allowed to ride at the end of the club line, and if the deceased's family wanted, they rode pillion with the club officers. 

After the ride, the party began at the Crow. There was booze, pool, wailing guitars and oh, yeah- booze. There was one fight at a minimum, as well as someone hooking up in a backroom and getting busted. Nameless didn't believe in wakes as sad affairs; they believed in dying like they lived: untamed.

 

 

That didn't happen for Merle, because you were in the zombie apocalypse and shit wasn't the same as it was then. Plus you were the only damn Nameless that you knew of still alive. But you did your best for him.

You asked Daryl- who was far less angry at you for leaving than you'd expected- if he was ok with a Nameless funeral. He'd smiled, kissed you softly, and asked what the hell else you were going to do with him. So you'd burned him, just the two of you, after dark. Then you'd scooped a couple handfuls of ashes into a container- Merle would have been amused at the use of Tupperware, you decided- and the next morning you and Daryl had hopped onto the Triumph and headed out. 

One last ride with Merle. 

You scattered the ashes along the way, and while it was a short ride and only one bike, instead of the whole chapter riding for an hour or more, you liked to think it would have pleased him. As you held on tight to Daryl on the way back, tears sliding from your eyes and whipping in the wind, you wished you had booze of some sort. So you could at least get drunk with Daryl and trade stories about Merle that you both knew by heart, since hell- you'd been there for all of them.

Oh well, you couldn't have everything. The two of you would have to improvise, and trade stories in the dark tonight instead. You'd have shit to do as soon as you got back. 

Back home, your people surprised you both. You'd clutched Daryl's hand tightly when you realized they were all gathered in the little graveyard, Shane and Rick putting up a cross for Merle while the others waited for you to arrive. Hershel held his Bible, Maggie and Glenn were holding hands and actually looked sad, and Carol held out her arms to you as soon as you and Daryl walked up. 

You and Daryl both cried when Hershel even said a few words over it, and then your group started telling stories. For people who'd seemed to hate him, they all managed to come up with one good story about him for you. You were a mess by the time they were done, and had fled to one of the guard towers with your rifle to be alone for a few hours. There was a fair amount of crying, some pacing, and one moment where you shot at absolutely nothing because your vision blurred at the wrong moment and you thought you saw something that wasn't there. When you jumped, your finger slipped, and- Rick started screaming and you sheepishly admitted that there was nothing there.

You absolutely, positively, didn't think it had been a chupacabra. Nope. 

Daryl hadn't been much better off, apparently. When you lay curled against him in the dark and talked that night, he told you he'd ended up in the tombs staring at a wall. He said he may or may not have had a long, drawn out argument with Merle about Merle being a dumbass. The conclusion you came to was that you were both fucked up.

Whatever worked, you guessed.

 

 

Days passed. You traded your own Nameless vest for Merle's, and Daryl'd smiled through suspiciously shiny eyes and muttered that he'd have approved. You agreed. Plus, you liked having him close. 

The prison settled into a routine of sorts. There were names to learn and more mouths to feed, and D block got cleaned up and taken over. Most of the Woodbury residents took over that block, including Sasha and Tyreese. That left you and yours with C, which served as a command center as well as your home. 

Carol bugged Shane and Rick until they built her an outdoor kitchen in the middle of the courtyard. You'd laughed and asked Shane if he needed a spotter, and he'd rolled his eyes and made a hammering joke. 

You hadn't spoken about his confession since you'd been in the truck, and while there'd been a few awkward moments, things were mostly good between you. 

Daryl started hunting again, trying to scare up some game. It wasn't easy, what with winter setting in, but there were hungry people here, after all. Sometimes you went with him; sometimes he went alone. Rick started setting up supply runs as well, and you went on more of those than you did hunts. 

Killing creatures had never been your thing, after all. Spending time alone with Daryl was, and you went on a few hunts with him just for that. It was getting a little too cold for outdoor shenanigans, though, and after a few attempts you started waving him off on his own and snuggling back down into the blankets in bed. 

Running around a town and shopping was much more your style. Zombie slaying optional. 

So basically, life was getting into a groove. Rick and Hershel had gotten their heads together and planned out a garden area, a place for livestock, and a whole bunch of other shit to rebuild civilization. Carol and Karen had teamed up and bullied you, Shane, Tyreese, and Daryl into going to Woodbury and bringing back rain barrels to help with water usage, and you had to admit that they were a good idea. 

Cleaning out Woodbury became your personal project, and whenever you could you took either Shane or Daryl and headed over there. It wasn't often what with everything else your boys needed to be doing to get settled in, but you weren't in a hurry. It's not like the town was going anywhere, after all. 

But you were restless, damn it. Maybe you'd given Merle the send off he deserved, even if it hadn't included the night of debauchery he'd have requested with a laugh, but you hadn't avenged him. 

The Governor was still out there, and you were spending most of your time in a guard tower on watch or puttering around generally fucking off. 

 

 

It was your third day in a row of not going anywhere, and you were contemplating crawling out of your own skin. Every vehicle in the prison purred like a kitten. You'd checked out the generators down in the tombs and they were running great as well. You'd cleaned the stash of guns the day before, one at a time and meticulously. 

Then you'd counted ammunition and updated the supply lists. 

You spent the morning wandering around trying to convince someone- anyone- you needed to go on a supply run. Unfortunately, Glenn and Maggie just done that a few days before and Daryl'd brought in two deer, ten rabbits, and couple of squirrels a couple hours after dawn. You'd steadfastly refused to help skin any of that shit, and Daryl had chased you around with a rabbit's foot while you screamed insults and obscenities at each other just for the hell of it. 

You were goddamn bored.

You were going out there, now. You had to, or you'd lose you mind. 

 

 

You went to Woodbury on the Triumph. One of the Woodbury residents was on the repaired gates, and they let you out alone without protesting, thank God. If any of your little family had been the ones manning the gate, you'd have been hit with seven hundred well-meaning questions about where you were going and how you were feeling and if you were sure you needed to be going alone. Shane probably would have just refused to open the damn gate and let you out. 

You knew it was because they cared, you told yourself sternly as you sped up the road toward Woodbury. You knew that. But it didn't make the hovering as your side healed any less obnoxious. 

You pulled the bike to a stop and stared. 

Woodbury was burning and the gates were standing wide open. 

You looked around, eyes narrowed. This had happened recently. You hadn't seen any sign of the smoke from all these fires as you drove, and- 

Yeah, if it'd been going long, someone would have noticed. 

There was only one person who would have a reason to torch the place. Just one, you thought grimly, and walked the bike to the side to stash it. 

You had your rifle in your hands as you slipped through the open gates and started searching for him. 

 

 

Rick, Daryl, and Shane were standing by the Hyundai when you pulled the bike up. All three of them turned to look at you, arms crossed and glaring as you swung off the back of the bike. 

Well, someone had noticed you were gone, that's for sure.

Since the best defense is a strong offense, you walked up and started talking before any of them could start yelling at you. "Hey, just the men I wanted to see. You see that massive cloud of smoke over there? That's Woodbury. Guess who torched the place?" 

Rick turned to follow your gesture, but neither Daryl nor Shane were deterred. 

"Why the fuck ya go alone?" Daryl asked. 

You lifted an eyebrow. "Please, Dixon. You go out alone all the damn time." 

"Daryl isn't still recovering from a knife wound, or going to a burning town that's a walker magnet," Shane fired back, scuffing the ground with one foot and giving you the sideways glare. 

"I didn't know it was burning until I got there; and I'm perfectly fine. My stitches are out and the doc has declared me healing nicely. Round two of objections?" You crossed your own arms, looking at all three of them with an inviting expression. 

Daryl's lips twitched like he wanted to smile but couldn't let himself yet. Rick frowned, taking a tiny step toward you and giving you the intense-friendly look. 

"What do you mean you didn't know it was burning until you got there? You didn't see the smoke and go to check it out?" 

"Bingo," you said softly, and his eyes darkened. 

"Shit," Daryl swore as he picked up on what you meant. "Ya see him?" 

You shook your head as Shane started swearing too, shoving his hand through his hair and looking pissed. "No, I couldn't pick up a trail. But he's out there, Rick. He's out there." 

"Shit," Rick said, and he and Shane looked at each other. 

"Add a second guard to each shift," Shane said with a shrug. "Nobody goes out alone anymore." 

Daryl looked at them, but he nodded. "Have to teach some of ya how to walk quiet in the damn woods, we want any game."

"Fuck you, too, asshole," you said mildly. He rolled his eyes, and Rick and Shane ignored you completely, used to the two of you by now. 

"Do not go back to Woodbury," Rick commanded you. 

You bristled, wanting to argue on principle because of the tone, but- well, the man was right. You nodded reluctantly, annoyed to have your project destroyed and unavailable. Now what the hell were you going to do when you got bored?

 

 

A little while later, Michonne found you wandering the fences, stabbing random walkers through the chains with a crowbar. 

"Hey," she said, pulling out her sword and stabbing like you had. "Heard he torched Woodbury." 

You grunted. "Yeah. I mean, I never saw him, but who else would it be, right?" 

"Right." She took out another and the two of you moved down the fence together. 

"What's on your mind, Michonne?" you asked after you'd made several kills in silence. 

She drew her sword back and another walker shoved its bony fingers through the bars at her. She stabbed it too before looking at you seriously. "I have an idea." 

You grinned. "Those are my favorite words."


	96. Take A Ride On the Wild Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of drug running and potential club war

You closed the door to Merle's office and leaned against it. He sat down behind his desk and raised his eyebrows at you. 

"What's up, girlie?" he asked, reaching into the desk drawer and pulling out a bottle of Jack and two glasses. 

You frowned. "Well, one, what the hell man? There's a bar two rooms away." 

Merle grinned and pushed one of the glasses toward you. "This is easier, baby girl. What's on ya mind?" 

It was hard to argue with that logic, you thought as you came into the room and swept up the glass. You plopped down in the chair and took a sip, trying to figure out how to say what you wanted to say. Finally you shrugged, knocked back a good half the glass while Merle's eyebrows shot to his hairline, and leaned forward. 

"What the hell is about to happen, Merle? There's some brutal shit being discussed out there," you jerked your thumb back toward the door. "They're saying someone took out Ace on purpose, and are plotting revenge." 

Merle sighed and knocked back his own drink. "We was afraid of that. Ain't nobody took out Ace but Ace. Hard for most people to accept that, and when one of our own goes down in police custody, they get all stirred up. President and Sarge'll handle this, baby girl. Ya need to stay as far away from anybody talkin' retaliation as ya can get. There's business ya ain't gotten ya nose into that ya ain't goin' to, hear me?" 

You narrowed your eyes at him. "What are you talking about?" 

"I said keep ya nose out. I know ya can handle the drug runnin' and the clubs, girlie, but I ain't gettin' ya in too deep here," he said firmly. 

You sighed. "I can handle anything." 

Merle smirked at you. "Think I don't know that, tough girl? Look, we'll look into how Ace died, but from what we heard so far, he done fought the law and-" 

"'The law won'?" you asked, raising an eyebrow with a smile. 

Merle rolled his eyes. "Ya know, every goddamn thing in life ain't a Clash song, but shit. That's exactly what I's gonna say. He tried to escape, bashed a pig over the head with his own baton. Now, I ain't no fan of the pigs, and ya know that better'n anyone, but if he did that, then they's well in their rights to take him out. But-" Merle's eyes went hard. "I suspect everyone out there's sayin' it's a bullshit story, ain't they?" 

You nodded and he scowled. 

"If it turns up b.s., baby girl, I'm gonna take ya off active status for a couple weeks, aight? And you'll be stayin' with me and Darylina." 

"Why the fuck would either of those things happen?" you demanded, outraged. 

Merle pointed you back in the chair as you half rose. "Sit ya ass down. If he was killed under less clear cut circumstances, the Nameless are goin' to war, baby girl. If that happens, shit's gonna go down. I ain't havin' ya get caught up in it. And I ain't leavin' ya unguarded if it does." 

You stared at him, eyes going wide. "What the fuck would happen, Merle?" 

He looked grim. "People'd die, that's what. Ya avenge ya own, darlin'." 

 

 

"Daryl. Come on," you said flatly. You were sitting cross legged on your bed, sheet wrapped around you while he paced and looked pissed. You'd been cuddled up together, talking quietly, when you'd mentioned Michonne's idea to him. 

He'd taken it less well than you'd hoped, and now you were cold and annoyed. He'd pulled on his jeans roughly, leaving them unbuttoned as he scowled and paced. 

"Come on what, baby? You want to go out there and look for him. Go for days at a time, no one except you and Michonne, and ya think that's a good idea?" he snarled now, crossing his arms and glaring at you. 

You sighed. "No. Actually, I want to go out there for days at a time with you, me, and Michonne and look for him." 

"He's gone! He ain't comin' back to mess with us, so what's the point?" 

You reached down and grabbed his flannel shirt, wrapping it around your shoulders as you considered how best to answer. You never thought well while naked. As you buttoned it into place, you realized the simple answer was not just the easiest, it was also the most accurate. 

"He killed Merle, babe. He has to pay for that," you said softly. 

Daryl's arms unfolded and he reached out to you. You went to him, resting your cheek against his chest as he slid his hand up to the back of your neck. He didn't say anything for a long moment, just holding on while he thought. You liked that about him. 

Finally, he sighed. "Killin' him won't bring Merle back, ya know that, right?" 

You scoffed. "I'm not an idiot, Daryl." 

"I know," he said, tugging gently at your hair. "I- baby, it's dangerous. Is it worth it?" 

You pushed back enough to look him seriously in the eyes. "It is to me. It is to Michonne. Daryl, please. I need to do this. I can't- I can't relax here. Not while he's out there." 

He looked at you intently, brushing his fingers over your cheek. He nodded, reluctantly at first, but when you let out a breath of relief, he smiled. 

"Aight, baby. Aight." 

 

 

 

The next conversation was both harder and easier. You squared off with Rick and Shane, gathered around a table in the C block common area. 

"No," Rick said immediately, shaking his head. "We need everyone here. We need all the hands we can get." 

"Rick, I do nothing most of the time anyway," you started. 

Shane cut you off. "It's too damn dangerous. Even for you two." 

"Please," you muttered to Shane. "You've got to be kidding me. We go out on runs all the time! Daryl went out alone to hunt up until yesterday." 

"That's with a home base to come back to," Shane fired back immediately. "You're talking going out and stayin' out. That's different." 

"And what if he comes back here?" Rick said. 

You rolled your eyes and tossed up your hands. "Guys. You can't use both arguments. You can't say 'he's not coming back so he's no danger' and 'what if he comes back'. It's one or the other, and both of them are invalidated by one crucial point you guys seem to be missing!" 

Shane was glaring, and Rick was giving you an overly reasonable look that convinced you he was pissed as hell underneath it. "And what point might that be?" Rick asked pleasantly. 

You shrugged. "Simply put, you can't stop us." 

"The hell we can't!" Shane exploded. 

Rick looked at you. "What happened to the Rickocracy?" 

You shrugged. "I'll follow you orders when I'm here. But you can't forbid me from leaving. I'll just sneak out, and take Michonne with me."

Daryl laughed from behind you, and you leaned into the warm hand on the back of your neck as he sat down. "She'll do it too, man. Ya know she will." 

Rick frowned at you both. "You're set on this?" 

"He killed Merle, Deputy," you said quietly. "Michonne has her own reasons- Andrea being the big one- and Merle's mine. Neither of us can rest until he's dead." 

"You can't be considering this," Shane said, staring at Rick in disbelief. 

Rick sighed and looked at Shane. "She's right. I can't stop them. Besides, I was thinking it was time to-" He cut off, shaking his head. 

"Oh, don't stop there, Deputy," you said, curious. "Time to what?" 

He looked at you and Daryl, and then at Shane. He leaned toward you over the table, gaze getting intense again. "There are two things. I think we need to start bringing in people. We have room; we have a place to grow food; we have water. We have fences to keep the dead out. It's time." 

You and Shane wore matching stunned expressions. Shane leaned back, shoving his hand into his hair and shaking his head in immediate denial. You were thinking about it, though. And you thought the man was right. 

Daryl chuckled. "Ain't seen both of 'em stunned to silence in awhile. What it's worth, I agree with ya, man," he told Rick. 

You flipped him off and caught Shane's motion from the corner of your eye, snorting when you realized he'd done the same thing. "What's the second thing?" you asked Rick. 

He sighed. "I'm not fit to lead anymore. We don't need a dictatorship. We need more than one person calling the shots. I'm gonna- I'm gonna set up a Council. I want you three to be part of it," he said, looking at each of you. 

You cracked up, almost falling off the bench you were laughing so hard. Rapping your knee against the underside of the table didn't help, since the pain just fueled your laughter. Daryl patted your shoulder absently but otherwise waited for you to get your shit together while Rick looked increasingly concerned and Shane rolled his eyes heavenward and left them there.

It took a minute to stop the howling, but as soon as you drew a deep breath you were shaking your head and pointing at Rick. "Oh, hell no, Deputy!" 

"Why not?" Rick asked with a frown. 

"First of all, leadership by committee is a terrible idea. I think you're the best person to lead, Rick, but if you can't- well, you've earned the rest. But people need clear leadership and a committee is not that," you told him with a shrug. "My opinion? Name a successor. Like a line of kings. More democratically, have everyone elect a successor, if that feels better to you. Whatever," you waved that away. 

"Secondly, if you're going to from a committee, I'm the worst choice to be on it. I suck at leading. I'm an enforcer, man. Not a president." 

Shane shook his head with a smile your way. "I think you're better at it than you give yourself credit for." 

"Oh, I'm really not," you said cheerfully, then placed your hands flat on the table and rose. "Ok, boys. If you want to set up a committee, Rick, these two here are good options. But I'm going to go find the Governor and kill his ass. 'Cause that's what I'm good at," you finished grimly. 

 

 

"Michonne!" you called, taking the steps to the guard tower two at a time. "Hey. I got Daryl on board and steamrolled Rick and Shane." 

She was panning the trees slowly with the rifle's scope. When she finished, she lowered the gun and looked at you, amusement showing in her eyes. "I bet you did." 

You shrugged. "Yeah. Wasn't hard. I just had to remind them both that they're not the boss of me." 

"How'd they take the lesson?" 

"Rick said he wants to abdicate the thrown anyway, so either better than expected or I drove him completely crazy. Dealer's choice," you offered with a grin. That one got an actual laugh out of her, and you considered it an instant win. 

She chuckled again as she lifted the rifle back to her eye. "Rick doesn't want to be in charge anymore? Who'll make all the decisions?" 

You leaned against the railing beside her, propping one foot on the lower rungs and scanning the trees yourself. "He wants a Council." 

"Committees are a bad idea." 

"That's what I said!" you exclaimed, vindicated. "Thank you! Whatever. Point is, I got a map, a motorcycle, and a boyfriend who's down for a road trip." You pulled the map from your back pocket and waved it her way lazily. "Wanna make some plans?"


	97. I'm On the Highway to Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> sexual innuendo  
> references to past child abuse  
> derogatory language toward women

It could have been worse. 

Rick went with you on the first couple of trips, and it was his bloody idea to start asking people some questions. You quite simply didn't see the point, since he had yet to turn anyone down based off the answers. And when you found out from Shane that those questions came from his hallucination phone call from the great beyond? 

Lord. You had trouble delivering them with a straight face for awhile. 

But deliver them you did, and leading people back to the prison became an ingrained part of your trips. You chaffed a little at the way it often cut things short or added extra time or kept you from ranging out further in your search- and you weren't even going to get started on the utter destruction of your methodical search grid plan- but Rick was right. You had the ability to offer safety and civilization. These people desperately needed it. 

There was the terrified group of college kids led by Zach, who'd told you when you found him that they'd been about a week away from a full-on Lord of the Flies situation. The reference had instantly endeared him to you, and he'd only added to that by recognizing the Nameless patch. He was hooked up with Beth now, and you smirked whenever you saw them together. There'd been the dad with his two little girls, the ex drunk on the side of the road who clearly had a thing for Sasha, and Doc S, who was a fucking godsend if you'd ever seen one. Daryl knew everyone by name somehow, even as he shied away from the adoration he was greeted with whenever you were at home. 

You could already tell he was ready to quit the longer runs and focus on finding- and feeding; good lord your group went through food like crazy now- people. You didn't blame him, but you were bracing for the fight that was sure to come whenever he finally told you that's what he wanted. 

Because you couldn't stop. Not until you'd found the Governor. 

You ranged out further with Michonne a few times, and that always went well. She was quiet, which was fine with you, and one badass motherfucker with that sword, which was even more fine with you. You got along well enough and watched each other's backs, but neither of you were entirely happy with the situation, if truth be told. 

She was better on her own, on a horse or on foot, and you were better suited to the bike. Stealth was only your style when it had to be. 

You went out alone a few times, quick one or two night trips just to prove to Dixon, Grimes, and Walsh- the let's keep the Nameless out of trouble brigade- that you damn well could survive out there just fine alone. You loved it.

But the best were ones like now, just you and Daryl and the bike and the road, mapping out locations to come back and clear, looking for people, looking for the Governor. Enjoying each other and the goddamn privacy. All those people made finding any moments alone together difficult. 

Especially since Maggie and Glenn had claimed the guard tower for their own little love nest, damn them. You'd wanted to steal that plan. 

Whatever, the two of you made it work and all, but still. 

Out on the road was better. 

 

 

"Damn it, Dixon," you laughed as Daryl tossed his poncho over your shoulders as he walked by. "I don't need another layer at your expense! I'll be fine in the sleeping bag." 

"Shut up, baby," he said absently. "Ya shivered so hard I could see your damn teeth chatter. Ya can give it back when you go to sleep." 

"What if I want first watch?" 

"Nope. Ya were up too damn early this morning. Go to sleep." 

The small fire you'd allowed yourselves crackled as you rolled your eyes, and you scooted closer to it, turning the squirrel on the spit Daryl'd made. It wasn't your favorite thing in the world to eat, but at least he hadn't suggested you dig into it raw like he'd done that day he fell on his own damn arrow at Hershel's farm. 

You started laughing at the memory of him trying to cut off the walker's fucking ears, and he glanced over his shoulder to raise an eyebrow at you. 

"What's so funny?" 

You smirked at him. "You. I was thinking about you eating that raw squirrel, then I started thinking about you trying to make a necklace from zombie ears. Jesus." 

He rolled his eyes at you. "Yeah, yeah. You're one to talk." 

"What the hell have I done that's on par with raw meat and ears as fashion statements?" you shot back, offended. "That's some full-on Ozzy shit, man!" 

"You and fuckin' eighties rock. Ya got a problem, baby," he said as he turned back to scan the trees. 

You sighed and pulled the squirrel off the fire, coming over to join him with your back to it. You sat and curled against him, and he tossed an arm over you as you held out the meat on a stick. 

"Dinner is served," you said. 

"Ya always were a shit cook." 

"Fuck you too," you muttered, picking meat off and holding it up to his lips. He took the bite as he scanned, and you picked some off for yourself this time. "Hey, Daryl?" 

"Yeah?" 

"This is nice. How about tomorrow, though, we find ourselves a building with an intact door and close it?" 

His laugh was short and sudden, and he tugged you a little closer to his side. "Yeah?" 

"Don't act like you don't want to," you muttered, and he shrugged. 

"Ain't seen nothin' in these damn trees all day," he offered, glancing down at you. 

You widened your eyes at him and fought the smile. "Why, Daryl Dixon, are you suggesting we do something as utterly unsafe as fuck where walkers could sneak up on us at any minute?" 

He glanced over at the small tent you'd pitched purely for warmth and back into your eyes. "Well, ya do have that thing for tents," he muttered. 

You frowned at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?" 

"Don't remember gettin' drunk as shit and talkin' about that tent we had by the river?" 

Your eyes went wide for real. "Oh. Oh god. I'd blocked all memory of that conversation and that hangover. Oh Judas fucking Priest. I totally came on to you that night, didn't I? I started talking about Melissa fucking Everette and that thing you do." 

"Yeah. Didn't let ya, though. Too damn drunk for decisions like that." 

You grinned and leaned in to kiss him slowly. "I'm not drunk now." 

"Ain't that a shame. You're funny when you're wasted." 

"Oh, fuck you!" 

He grinned, rose, and kicked out the fire, then headed toward the tent with a smirk in your direction. "Shit, baby- that's the plan. Do that thing if ya want."

Well, you weren't turning down an offer like that. 

 

 

 

You were headed back together, one night out from the prison, and you knew he wanted to talk. He was fidgety and restless, glancing at you and looking away whenever you met his eyes. Finally you sighed and stared at him. 

"Out with it," you snapped. 

He picked up one of his crossbow bolts and started inspecting it closely. "Out with what?"

You laughed. "Fuck, Daryl, that was just bad. Look, either you're dumping me again or you're pregnant." 

"Shit," he muttered, fighting the smile and failing. "I ain't dumpin' ya, baby." 

"Oh, so you're pregnant?" 

"Shut the fuck up, girl." 

You grinned at him as he rolled his eyes and lowered the bolt. He finally looked at you properly and took a deep breath. 

"Look, baby. We've been halfway back to Atlanta. Michonne's been out toward Macon. There's no sign of him. He's gone." 

You shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe he's in Atlanta. Maybe he's been hiding somewhere. We don't know." 

"Maybe," he agreed. Frustration was in his eyes and the lines of his body as he rose and started to pace. "Maybe he's dead already. Maybe he's further away than Atlanta. There's a shit ton of maybes out there, YN." 

"So what are you saying? You want to stop looking for him?" 

He sighed, staring out into the trees. "I don't know, baby." 

You rose as well and stepped to him. "Daryl. I'm not mad. I've known your heart wasn't in this search for awhile." 

You slid your fingers into his as he kept looking out into the darkness. 

"It ain't that I don't wanna find him. I do. I want him to pay for what he did to Merle. It's just that- how long we gonna let that rule our lives?" he asked seriously. "There's other shit I want, too." 

"I get it. Daryl, I get it," you assured him. 

He turned to look at you as you touched his face with your fingertips. "Just think he'd want us to be happy." 

"I am happy," you countered with a smirk. "Didn't that come across already?" 

He snorted. "Bitch. Ain't talkin' about sex." 

"I wasn't just talking about sex either, asshole," you countered. "You make me happy, dumbass. I like being out here with you. I like bringing people in, however much they annoy me. I want all those people I care about back at the prison to be safe. It isn't all about revenge, you know." 

"Yeah?" 

You shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong, avenging Merle is a big ass part of it. Maybe most of it. But I watched him gun down his people, Daryl. He killed them in cold blood because they wouldn't fight for him. That crazy bastard is a danger to everyone he might meet." 

"Yeah," Daryl said reluctantly. "But what if he's gone? We just gonna look for the rest of our lives?" 

You frowned. "I don't know, babe. But- I have to know for sure. He can't hurt anyone else. He just can't." 

 

 

 

Will called. 

Somehow he'd found Daryl's number, and he called. 

You answered Daryl's phone, half-asleep in the middle of the night and thinking it was yours. "Hello?" 

"Where the fuck is my son?" 

You shot upright in bed, sleep now a distant memory. "Will?" 

"The fuck?" Daryl said, stirring beside you and propping himself up on one arm.

"Shit. Shoulda known he'd find a way into ya damn pants. Yer that foster kid he ran off with ain't ya?" 

"Will, how the hell did you get this number?" you demanded. He was drunk or high or maybe both, and it'd been years since you'd heard his voice. The last time was probably at your foster dad's funeral, when Will had sneered at you and his sons you'd called him an abusive dickbag. He'd called you a biker whore and you'd laughed and winked at him so Daryl and Merle wouldn't start throwing punches. Now he was calling Daryl at three in the morning. What the actual fuck. 

Will's slur on the other end of the line became, if possible, even more belligerent than before. "It's my goddamn kid's number! Why the fuck shouldn't I have it?" 

Daryl was reaching for the phone now, but you were fending him off as you felt yourself smiling coldly. "Oh, I don't know, Will. Because you're an abusive motherfucker who beat the shit out of your kids regularly? Because both of them literally ran away from home rather than stay anywhere near you? Because your a drunk, high, racist, sexist asshole?" 

"Put my fuckin' son on the phone and shut ya damn whore mouth, little girl!" 

"No. You've abused him enough. And I'll do whatever I please with my damn whore mouth, than you very much," you said pleasantly into the phone. "Don't call him again, asshole." 

You hung up the phone and tossed it to Daryl, who was scowling at you now. 

"The hell ya not just give it to me?" he demanded. 

You shrugged. "It was more fun to tell him off myself. Daryl, why does he have your number at all?" 

"Shit, girl. Damn if I know. I mean, Merle and I keep track of him. I ain't using fake ids anymore, so he must have found me that way."

"Are you changing your number now?" 

He shrugged. "Probably not." 

"The fuck?" you demanded. "Why not? He could come after you, or keep fucking calling! He beat the shit out of you, Daryl! You and Merle!"

His eyes slid away from yours and he looked a little lost. You reached for his hand and he slid his fingers between yours and held on tight. 

"I know, baby. Want to keep tabs on 'im, I guess. Know where he is and when he dies, so he cain't hurt you or Merle. Been keepin' an eye on him since we left," he said softly. 

You sighed. "Shit. I can't argue with that, I guess. It makes sense. I guess I've forgotten, what with my foster dad being dead already and all. I know where he is." 

"Yeah," Daryl agreed. "Just gotta know, ya know?"


	98. Travelling Riverside Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

You rolled up to the prison the next day, pausing to run a critical eye over the zombie build-up on the fences as you approached. The outer gates, the spike-trap setup Rick had stolen from Morgan, opened first, and you grinned. 

Home sweet home. Sure, you preferred the open road. But your people were here. 

Daryl eased through both sets of gates as you waved a hand toward Carl, who'd run down from where he'd been working on what was going to be the garden with Rick to let you in. Daryl stopped the bike just inside, and you kissed his cheek and swung off the bitch seat as he cut the engine. 

"Got some serious buildup in that north corner," you commented to him as he walked the bike toward the tower where it stayed parked when you were here. 

He grunted. "Yeah. Gonna have to check in with the Council anyway. We'll get somebody on it. Hey, kid." 

Carl smiled and hugged you both. "Hey back. Welcome home." 

"Thanks," you said, ruffling his hair. You kind of missed him running around in Rick's old hat. The empty holster he wore strapped to his thigh, despite Rick's firm 'no guns needed inside' policy made you smile. Habits were damn hard things to break. "What's the gossip, Carl? Catch us up." 

"Michonne's out again. She was home for two days and left yesterday," he began. 

You grinned at him. "She bring you some comics?" 

"Maybe," he said with an answering smile. 

Daryl unzipped the saddle bags and tossed you a bag. You grabbed it from the air and swung it absently from your fingers. Carl eyed it and you, and you lifted an eyebrow at him. 

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine! You're the queen. I like you better than Michonne. Did you bring me anything?" 

Daryl cracked up the same as you, and you reached into the bag and pulled out two comics and a ziplock bag of Big Kat bars. Carl's eyes lit up, and you handed them over with another grin. 

"I really am the queen," you informed Daryl as Carl gave you a hug and darted off up the road. 

"Yeah, baby," he muttered. "Whatever ya say." 

 

 

You were hailed by faces you recognized and by a few you didn't as you strolled hand in hand up into the courtyard. Carol was in the outdoor kitchen, something cooking and a smile on her lips as she talked to a kid you thought was named Patrick. She waved when she saw you, yelling 'welcome home!'

You waved back, and Daryl broke off to go talk to her with a kiss on your cheek. He had to check in with the rest of the Council anyway, so you grabbed the bag of gear from his shoulder and kept heading toward C block. 

Rick had given over leadership like he'd planned, and despite your objections, he'd gone with a Council. He'd decided on Hershel, Daryl, Shane, Carol, Glenn, and Sasha. When a swing vote was needed, Shane and Daryl browbeat you into offering your vote. You were less than pleased by that situation, but hey. You'd rather shit get done than not. Most of the time, you were forced to admit, they agreed unanimously on what needed doing. You'd only had to step in a couple of times over the course of the winter. 

Now, with winter giving way to spring, you were hoping that streak would continue, or they'd find another swing vote. 

You dumped your gear in yours and Daryl's cell, including the rifle you didn't need to carry inside the gates, and found everything clean with fresh sheets on the bed. God bless Carol and her domestic goddess status, you thought to yourself, stripping off your jacket and changing rapidly into clean clothes you found waiting for you. You shrugged back into Merle's vest and wandered out of the cell again. 

Maybe on the road with Daryl was your favorite thing right now, but holy damn being here always felt good. The promise of a hot shower later was almost enough, as it was every time you came back, to convince you to stay. Almost. 

Beth walked by with Judith, and you paused to chat with her and kiss the baby. She was starting to look a little like Shane to you, around the eyes and the shape of her mouth, but mostly you just saw Lori. Your heart hurt for a minute at the thought of her mother, like it always did, but the baby was all smiles and gurgles, so you could hardly stay sad for long. 

You headed back outside, greeting more people as you went, wondering yet again where they'd all come from. You waved to Tyreese and Karen, leading several others with the heavy aprons of the fence crews down toward that north corner you'd noticed. Maggie and Glenn appeared together out of the guard tower, and you spent several minutes talking to the two of them before you continued on your way to where you always found yourself when you first got home. 

Soon enough, you were walking up to the little graveyard, happy to see that no more crosses had been added while you were gone. There were more than just the four of your people now, a few deaths along the winter adding more markers as things happened. A couple of elderly women who'd died in their sleep, a couple of walker bites from supply runs, and one that had hurt the entire little community when one of the kids from Woodbury had choked on their lunch all alone. That hadn't been a good day for the place at all. You'd been home, and the look in Rick's eyes when the kid had come shambling toward you all from the depths of the tombs- shit. 

You'd stepped up again and handled it for him; this one easier than Sophia but not by much. He'd been a sweet kid.

You stopped and said a quiet hello to each of the graves, lingering over Lori's for a minute to tell her how beautiful Judith was, how good Carl was growing up to be, and that Rick and Shane were doing fine. You could see Rick out in what would be a thriving garden by the time he was through. Hershel was out there with him, giving him instructions and taking care of some of the easier tasks of getting things ready. You were smiling as you told Lori you still had their backs. 

Then you moved to Merle's, dropping down to a crouch to pick a few weeds out from around the 'M' that marked it as his. 

"I know you're not here, brother," you whispered, like you always did. "But it's nice to come say hello all the same. We're back again. We're both good. Daryl wants to quit looking for him. He's going to tell me he's done soon. Probably today," you said with a faint chuckle. "It's ok with me. I get it. But I'm not done. I can't be." 

You ran a finger over the worn wood, checked to make sure the cross-piece was still held on tightly. "Anyway. Nothing major happening, it seems. Just wanted to tell you we're back and we're ok. I miss you, asshole." 

You stayed silent for a minute, irrationally hoping as always that you'd hear him say something back. Finally you sighed. "Well, that's it. I love you. See you later." 

You rose and turned, shoulders slumped but eyes dry, and smiled. Standing a few steps away, waiting for you with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, was Shane. You couldn't remember a single time you'd come home from a run and Shane hadn't met you out here, waiting that respectful distance away for you to talk to Merle. 

You knew he was the one who took care of Merle's grave while you were gone, and shit- probably the others as well. 

"Hey, Officer," you called as you headed toward him. 

"Hey, criminal. Welcome back. Saw Daryl already bitchin' about how we're running this joint." 

"Well, if you didn't let the walkers build up, he wouldn't have to bitch. Thought you were in charge of this place, man. Get your shit together," you teased as you reached him. 

He glared at you for a minute before rolling his eyes and holding his arms out. You gave him a long hug and then stepped back and sighed. 

"Didn't find him." 

Shane shoved his hand through his hair and with a sympathetic look. "I figured. You staying awhile, or heading back out right away?"

You shrugged. "Daryl's done. I mean, he hasn't told me that yet, but I know it. He doesn't want to do the long ones anymore. Wants to stay close to home. He thinks the Governor's gone." 

"You don't," Shane said flatly as the two of you started walking back toward the courtyard. 

"No, I don't. I'm not done. Not yet. I'll hang a few days, let all of you get used to the idea of me being out there alone for more than one night," you said with a grin Shane's way. 

He glared. "I don't like that, Nameless." 

"I know you don't, Walsh. Get over it." 

"Rick ain't gonna like it either." 

You smirked. "I guess it's a damn good thing for me Rick isn't in charge, isn't it? Now, enough about that. I saw Judith already. She's growing." 

Shane's face light up instantly, like you'd known it would. There was one love in Shane's life these days, and it was that little girl. "I swear she grows every day. She's so damn smart, Nameless. The other day, she-" 

You grinned and listened as he gushed about her, delighted by the happiness that radiated off him as he spoke. 

 

 

You stretched out on the bed in your cell with a groan. "Oh God, I always forget how damn good this feels." 

Daryl chuckled as he pried his boots off, then laid down beside you. You curled onto your side and against his chest, and his arm wrapped around you loosely. 

"Yeah," he agreed. "Beats the shit outta usin' a pack for a pillow." 

You smirked in the dark, knowing full well that he was taking the opening you'd given him. "Maybe. But a sheet over a cell door just isn't the same as being alone," you teased, tapping your fingers on his chest.

He snorted and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. "Baby?" 

"Yeah?" 

He was silent for a long time, and you sighed. 

"I already figured it out, babe. You're done, right?" 

He rolled so he was laying on his side, facing you, but kept the arm around you and your hand in his. "I ain't totally done. I just- I think it's time to quit worryin' about findin' him and start focusin' on the future. That's all. This place is gettin' bigger. More people mean more supply runs, more huntin' needed. Shit that we're good at, baby. We need to be here." 

You nodded, acknowledging what he was saying even if you didn't agree. "I know. I get it. You're totally right." 

"But ya ain't done yet." 

You met his eyes and one corner of your mouth curled up sadly. "No. I'm not done yet. I can't be." 

He studied you in the dark. "What's that mean, then?" 

"I'll go alone," you said with a shrug. "Or with Michonne, of course." 

"I don't like that." 

You rolled your eyes. Then men in your life were damn predictable. "I know." 

There was a silent pause. "I ain't gonna change your mind, am I?" he asked quietly. 

"Have you ever?" 

 

 

"Wish ya wouldn't go," Daryl said quietly three days later. 

You loaded your bag of gear into the saddle bag on the bike and added in a box of rounds for the rifle along your back. You glanced at him as you pulled your handgun from your thigh holster and checked the magazine. 

"I know. I have to," you answered as you shoved it back into place. The Governor's knife was on your hip, resting just below the fun new scar from where he'd stabbed you. You were armed and ready as you'd ever be, and now that the moment had come, you were ready to be on your way.

He sighed and ducked his head as he nodded. "I know ya do." 

"I wish you'd come with me," you told him with a slight smile. He sighed and held out a hand to you. You slid into his arms and focused on the warmth of him against you, memorizing the way his heartbeat sounded in your ear and the way he smelled and the smooth leather of his vest under your cheek. He held on tightly to you, his face against your neck. You stayed like that for a long time, but finally you pulled away reluctantly. 

He touched your cheek and studied you for a minute before kissing you softly. "Ya be careful, hear me?" 

"Always, babe. I love you." 

"I love ya too," he whispered, and you kissed him again. 

Then you swung onto the Triumph and kicked it to life. "See you in a week!" you called over the engine. 

He nodded, gripping the strap on his crossbow with both hands and looking at you like he was afraid he'd never see you again. 

"I'll be back. I promise," you yelled, and sped through the gate, waving to Shane as you went. 

You glanced back once to see Shane reach out and grab Daryl's shoulder as they watched you go.


	99. Gonna Ramble On, Sing My Song, Gonna Walk My Way Around the World, Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

The severed arms were a nice touch, you thought absently as you eyed the door to the barn through the scope of your rifle. Michonne sure was good at marking where she'd been. Besides the spray painted tag- a Nameless symbol you'd taught her when you started splitting up to search; it meant she'd passed through and the area was relatively safe- you could always tell by the body parts strewn about where she'd been. From the four arms sticking upright out of the ground like macabre plants, she'd started using walkers to carry her shit again. 

She was such a fucking badass. 

You lowered the rifle and started the Triumph up, heading toward the barn. Under the Nameless tag, made large enough to see from a distance, was a quick note in neat handwritten Sharpie- 

'Cleared this. Trip thirteen. No sign. M.'

Sweet. Trip thirteen was the one she was currently on. Meant it should be relatively safe, since you were only a week behind her. You pulled out a Sharpie of your own and scrawled your name and a smiley face beside her note, in case she came back this way, then opened the doors and went in. 

Good enough place to stop for the night. 

 

 

Ok, not so much. 

Three hours later you were shooting holes in your smiley face with the rifle, erasing your message and marking the location as not-safe as best you could. You couldn't do it from closer up, due to the walkers milling around still wondering where the hell you'd gone. Oh well.

Back on the road again, it seemed. 

 

 

And so it went for a solid week and a half. You'd already been gone three days too long and felt guilty for the hell you were probably putting your people back home through, but there was nothing you could do about it now. You had to finish what you'd started. 

There was no sign of him anywhere. You searched small towns, abandoned farms, rathole hideouts where he could have been holed up. There was nothing. 

You missed Daryl. You missed Shane. You missed Rick and his intense-friendly stare. You missed Carol's cooking and clean clothes and the prison mattress. You missed showers. 

"Oh, God, the showers," you moaned out loud. You were sitting in a tree, leaned back against the trunk with one leg dangling. It was the best security you'd found for the night, and you'd pulled out the rope you'd brought along for just that purpose and tied yourself to the trunk. 

You'd always had the bad habit of talking to yourself, and being alone for so long had made it worse.

"Well, I've had worse nights," you added, glancing at the starry sky. "It could be raining." 

 

 

You made it to Atlanta, which had been the goal all along. Not that you'd shared that information with anyone else, because if Daryl or Shane or Rick had known you were planning on going back into the city, you'd have never left the prison gates. They'd have locked you in a cell or handcuffed you to one of them permanently. But you made it. 

You went to the quarry first, which was a mistake of fairly epic proportions. There was nothing for you there but zombies and a handful of memories. You beat a hasty retreat from the walkers who'd been entirely too interested in you, hopping the interstate and cruising the wrong way into town. You ditched the bike where you, Rick, Daryl, T Dog, and Glenn had ditched the truck when you'd gone to search for Merle, knowing like Glenn had that this was a stealth mission. 

On foot, you retraced a path you thought you'd never walk again. 

You were going home. 

It wasn't that you thought the Governor was here. To be honest, you thought if he was anywhere, it was probably closer to Macon, where Michonne had gone. You needed this, though, and shit- you had to at least check Atlanta. That's how you rationalized it to yourself. That's how you excused the fact that you were not five days overdue getting home and even if you traveled a straight shot back and hauled goddamn ass to get there, you were going to be late by another four minimum. You had to be sure, right? 

Not that there was any way to be at all certain that he wasn't there somewhere. There were too many buildings, too many walkers, too many paths and places to hide. 

So far, the city seemed empty of anyone but the dead.

 

 

 

Your feet led you toward the Crow without hesitation. 

You remembered the night you saw a Nameless vest on the back of a walker in the dark. You'd been shattered, gripped by the fear that it was Merle more than anything else. It hadn't been, but there'd been more Nameless in the world than you and Merle. You'd had friends, former lovers, bosses you liked and people you cared about, and after finding Daryl and losing Merle, you hadn't given them much more than a passing thought. 

Somehow, you had a feeling this was always where you were going. This was always what you'd been searching for; this was why you couldn't stop. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with the Governor after all, though God knew you wanted your revenge with everything in you. Maybe the restless, reckless feeling that always arose when you spent too long inside the prison walls was about this. About them, and the fact that you'd abandoned them without even trying to see if any of them were alive. 

You stopped breathing when you saw the bikes. You knew whose they were, every one. You knew the president, the sarge, the other enforcers. 

That Suzuki belonged to the idiot prospect who'd tried to take on Daryl in an argument once. You hadn't ended up sleeping with him, but you'd been close to it, sitting in his lap and flirting outrageously one night before Daryl barged in with his temper and bad attitude. 

The Ducati at the end of the line belonged to a guy you'd drug off Merle when you'd been called in one night to Billy's. Merle had been high as fuck and made a particularly Will-like remark, and the owner of the Ducati- and African-American ex-marine boxing champ- had done what you'd have expected. 

When Billy had filled you in on the reason behind the fight, you'd let the man take a couple extra shots at Merle before moving in, because shit. Merle had been a racist dick and deserved it.

The gorgeous, formerly pristine BSA Rocket 3, cherry red and fierce as hell, that was laying on its side under a layer of dirt with half a twice-dead prick draped over the seat had been the pride and joy of one of your one night stands. You'd made out with him, sitting in his lap on the seat of that beauty, somewhere outside of the city with the wind whipping around you and his hands in your hair.

Goddamn it. Goddamn it all to fucking hell. 

You didn't want to know what was behind your beloved Crow's doors, did you? But your feet were already moving, the rifle gently bumping your back as you made your way closer, handgun in one hand and the Governor's knife- the one he'd plunged into your side- in the other. 

You'd made a promise that you'd kill him with it, and you carried it with you every moment of every day. You never knew when you might find him. 

 

 

You scrubbed at the dust and dirt and general filth on the window of the door, heart clenching as the top of the Nameless' mark engraved in the glass came clean. You took a deep breath and set your eye against it, scanning the inside of a place you knew by heart.

"No," you whispered, stumbling backward. "No. No." 

Tears spilled down your cheeks. You'd expected it. You'd been braced for it. But nothing could really prepare you for the sight of your beloved club full of shambling dead. 

Nameless patches on corpses so long gone you couldn't even tell them apart wasn't a sight you'd ever be clean of again. 

Your hands shook as you shoved one through your hair and pressed the back of the other against your mouth. You wouldn't throw up. You wouldn't, you wouldn't, you wouldn't--

One of the corpses slammed against the doors, rotting face visible with the Nameless mark superimposed over it. It left streaks of goo on the other side of the door, jaw working and clouded grey eye twitching as it caught your scent.

You lost the battle with the contents of your churning stomach, barely missing the toes of your boots as you collapsed and started heaving. 

 

 

When you were finished, you climbed unsteadily to your feet. You'd gone all the way to your knees at one point, unable to hold up. 

You scrubbed a hand across your tear-streaked cheeks and picked up your gun and knife from where you'd dropped them on the ground as you hurled. You turned slowly back the doors, which were rattling now against the weigh of your former family throwing trying to get to you. 

To eat you. 

To make you one of them again. 

"No," you said again to the empty air; to the motorcycles mocking you with their very presence; to the dead who wanted you to join them. "No. If I'm the last goddamn Nameless living, I'll be the last goddamn Nameless walking." 

You strode to the doors and beat on them with your hand, banging against the glass and hearing the walkers inside become even more agitated. This wasn't acceptable. You would not leave them like this, goddamn it. 

You looked at the Crow for a long moment, and then you got an idea. 

 

 

You siphoned gas from each of the bikes as the doors rattled and you drowned out the moaning with an unwise but satisfying Guns'N'Roses cover concert. You had to stop once or twice to handle the dead that your singing drew toward the club, but what the hell ever. You saved some of the gas for your own bike, and dumped the rest liberally over the Crow, the bikes, and the surrounding pavement. 

Then you went to the massive Harley cruiser that belonged to the president of the Nameless, Atlanta Chapter, and found the gold-plated lighter he always, always, always kept in the dashboard. 

You turned the thing in your hands for a long moment, running your fingers over the mark that matched your patch, the tattoo on your back, the sign above the Crow, the engraving on the doors. The mark that your whole life had been guided by for more than a decade; the mark that said family and home and purpose for many long years. You flicked it to life, looked at the flame, and tossed it toward the Crow. 

You walked away as the fire raged.


	100. Oh, Look What You've Done To This Rock'n'roll Clown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

You pointed out turns as Daryl drove through Atlanta, both of you laughing over the sound of the engine and getting wildly distracted by the sights you were passing. 

You were in love with this city already, and you'd only been in it for a couple of hours. 

One more turn and you saw the sign; neon lights proclaiming the Nameless Crow and its hours of operation and the mark that decorated the back of Merle's vest. There were motorcycles parked along the front of the building. There were a good number of them even at three in the afternoon, and with them was Merle's gleaming, gorgeous Triumph. Daryl pulled to a stop beside it and you hopped off the bitch seat, pulling your helmet off and running your fingers through your hair nervously. 

Daryl set the kickstand and got off as well, pulling his own helmet off and running a critical eye over the place. "Merle's bikes here, at least," he muttered. 

You started weaving your way through the parked bikes, stopping to admire several of them along the way as Daryl trailed patiently along behind you. Your fingers itched to run along the smooth leather and the shining metal, but you shoved your hands in your pockets instead. You didn't touch another man's bike unless you had permission. 

The doors had the Nameless mark engraved in the clear glass, and they were heavy as you pulled them open. Inside, the bar glowed under the lights, wood worked to a high polish gleaming dark and brooding as light reflected off bottles stacked nearly to the ceiling behind the bar. Booths and tables littered the long room, with a stage and jukebox at the far end that made you long to hear crashing drums and weeping guitar fill the space. 

And a handful of men and women in leather and vests looked your way with vague disapproval on their faces. You tucked your helmet under one arm, cocked your hip, and smirked around the room. 

"Hey, guys. Anybody seen Merle?" you asked with a brash confidence you didn't know you'd had in you until that moment. This place felt like home already. 

 

 

 

It took you six more days to get home. There was a problem with a herd of walkers, a sliding crash when you hit a puddle of what turned out to be blood, and one brutal, exhausting battle to get through to where you needed to be. There'd been a few too many close calls for your comfort, that's for sure. 

You were so done. 

And you were in so damn much trouble. 

Honestly, it should have taken you seven days. You would have been smart to stop for the night, climb a tree, and get some sleep. You didn't do that. You were eleven days late, damn it. Daryl probably thought you were dead. 

Shit, Daryl was probably out there looking for you. 

Seeing the prison in your headlights in the middle of the night gave you a feeling of such palpable relief you had to stop the bike and lean your head against the ape hangers for a minute. You were too damn tired and sore to stay like that for long, though, and the headlights passed over a monstrous group of walkers at that damn north corner again. 

"What the hell, guys?" you muttered as you sped forward. 

The outer gates pulled open, but the inner one stayed closed, and you winced. With the outer gates closed you were safe enough for them to check and see just who the hell had driven up in the middle of the goddamn night, and you didn't blame them one bit. You just wanted to get inside, get yelled at by all the people you'd scared the crap out of, and get around to the part where you got to hug them and tell them you were ok and you loved them. So stopping made you resentful. 

You squinted out into the darkness and raised your voice to be heard over the Triumph's rumble. "You forget who I am already, along with how to keep zombies from building up on that damn fence?" 

There was a long pause, and you glanced over your shoulder at the walkers coming up. Then Shane Walsh's voice came very clearly and you broke into a huge grin. 

"I should let your criminal ass get fucking eaten." 

"You'd miss me too much, Officer, and you know it!" you called back. 

The gate opened. 

 

 

 

Shane was pulling you roughly from the bike before you'd really stopped it.

"Whoa, Walsh, kickstands are a requirement! Jesus, hold on a minute!" you said, laughing as you resisted long enough to flip it down and get the bike set. Then you let him tug at you until you were standing in front of him. 

He ran a wild gaze over you from head to toe, hands resting on your shoulders and his eyes narrowing at the liberal splashes of mud, blood, and innards that coated you. His pissed off look lingered on the hole in the right sleeve of your leather jacket, a thing you wouldn't have believed possible if you didn't see it right there for yourself, and on what was no doubt an impressive scrape on your cheek. You didn't mention that beneath the jacket there was long, matching bit of road rash up your side where the jacket had ridden up when you went down two days before. 

"Hey," you offered when he finally finished his inspection and met your eyes. 

He shoved a hand through his hair- holy shit, you never thought you'd say this, but damn the man needed a haircut- and it stuck straight up when he took his hand away. Your lips twitched upward in a small smile as he then ran the hand you suddenly realized was shaking over his face. 

"Hey?" he said after a minute of staring into the darkness outside the gate. "You- Fucking hell, Nameless. You're nearly two weeks late. We thought you were dead. Daryl's a fuckin' ghost walking around here when he ain't off searching for you, and you- you pull up in the middle of the goddamn night looking like that-" he gestured vaguely toward you and you frowned, slightly insulted, but he wasn't finished. "And you say... 'hey'?" 

He was right. Fuck, you hated it, but he was right. You scuffed the toe of your boot along the ground and looked down to see the drag mark it left in the dirt, guilt taking over you. "I'm sorry," you whispered. 

"What the hell happened out there? Michonne's been here and back three times while you were gone!" he snapped, and you knew him well enough to be able to physically hear the way he was holding on to his temper. 

You looked back at him, shrugging a little. "Ran into some issues on the way. I would have been back two days ago if it weren't for the herd. And the wreck. And the fight." 

He scoffed. "Two days. Yeah, that makes it better. You said you'd see us in a week." 

"There were complications?" you offered weakly. Shane just stared at you, and you sighed. "Shane. Come on, man. Its the middle of the night. I'm exhausted and I'm more beat up than you realize and I haven't had a shower in three weeks. And I have to do all this again with Daryl." 

Shane's eyes had narrowed when you said you were more beat up than he realized, and he stalked toward you with a snarl. He grabbed your arm and started frog-marching you up the path toward the prison. "Daryl's not here. He's out there looking for you. I'm supposed to be on fuckin' watch, but Maggie and Glenn are in the guard tower. I'm going to wake them up while you go get a goddamn shower, then we're gonna talk about just how hurt you are. Goddamn crazy criminal. Can't fuckin' believe you. Shit." 

You were smiling as he pulled you along, suddenly and overwhelmingly glad to be home. 

 

 

True to his word, Shane banged on the door to the showers, then shoved his head in and yelled that if you didn't get your ass out soon, he was dragging you out like it or not. To be fair, you'd been basking in the joy and delight that was hot water for awhile. 

You got out, grabbed the warm, fluffy towel and blessed Carol once again for being the single greatest woman in the history of all time. Dressed in the clean clothes Shane had obviously grabbed from your cell for you- cause you sure as shit hadn't thought about doing that- you opened the door and started to make some wise-cracking comment. 

Instead, the guilt churned up even more when you got a look at Shane. He was leaning on the wall just outside the door, head tipped back and eyes closed, and in the spill of light from the bathroom doorway you could see the tear tracks on his face. His hands were clenched into fists tight enough that you knew he'd have bloody nail marks, and he didn't even try to hide the state he was in when you opened the door. 

Instead of the teasing you'd been planning on, you took two steps and hugged the man with a whispered apology. 

"Eleven days," he said after a minute. "Eleven days." 

"I know. Look, there's a reason. Before you command me in there and I have to argue on principle's sake, I wrecked a couple days ago. Jacket rode up and I've got a pretty decent bit of road rash that needs checking out. Can't reach it on my own," you told him. 

He sighed and shoved off the wall. "Come on then." 

 

 

 

You crashed out on your bed, stretched across the mattress in one of Daryl's shirts and too damn exhausted to care about even so much as a blanket. Shane had cleaned off your back, picking out a few lovely pieces of gravel that had already been trying to heal embedded in your skin, and declared you good enough, and you'd been weaving as you made it back to your cell. 

You'd asked Shane when Daryl was due back, and he'd glared. "Tomorrow, so he'll be here in eleven damn days." 

You'd earned that, you supposed. 

The cell block door slammed open with a crash loud enough to wake the dead, and you sat bolt upright, reaching for your rifle before you realized you were home. You rubbed at your head where you'd slammed it against the bunk above you and tried to figure out who you were, where you were, and what fucking year it was as voices too quiet to really understand carried into the cells. 

"Twelve fuckin' days, Walsh! Move ya ass!" 

"She's only been asleep a couple hours, man. Look, she's fine. Got some decent road rash and a healthy dose of sleep deprivation, but what else is new? Give her a couple more hours and then yell at her. Maybe you'll have more luck than I did." 

There was a pause and something said that you couldn't hear, but you were already pulling yourself to your feet and heading for the curtain over your door. 

You ducked under it and were met with the bright light of mid-morning, so Shane's definition of 'a couple hours' of sleep and yours weren't quite the same. Of course, dawn light had been in the sky when you'd made your way to C block, so it hadn't been all that much, that's for sure. 

You headed toward the common area as Carl poked his head out of his cell. His eyes widened when he saw you, the flash of relief on his face making you wince. You paused long enough to give him a quick hug while Daryl and Shane's voices continued to discuss your health and general welfare, both now and how it was going to decline in the not too distant future. 

You leaned in the doorway and drank in the sight of him pacing, not hearing Shane talk as you watched him. He was too pale, you thought critically, and that was your fault. Someone you love being eleven days late getting home could do that to you. He was streaked in dirt and blood, fresh from the outside and not even having showered yet. His knuckles, you noticed as he tossed his hand up in frustration, were scraped and bruised, like he'd been punching something or someone. 

Unless Shane was sporting fresh bruises, you were putting your money on a tree. 

"Hey, babe. I'm home," you heard yourself say, and bit your lip as Daryl whipped around and skewered you with those eyes. That was not what you'd meant to say, but apparently you couldn't turn off the sarcastic little shit in control of your mouth. 

Shane shot you a glance that might have held some amusement, you weren't really sure, because Daryl started stalking toward you and you started babbling. 

"Ok, look, I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Some shit happened, and I ended up in Atlanta, and then there was a herd and-" 

You were cut off by Daryl grabbing your arms and pulling your to him, slamming his lips to yours and growling something that sounded like 'shut the hell up' even as he kissed you. You wrapped your arms around him in return and kissed him back just as hard. 

Oh God, you'd missed him so damn much. 

 

 

 

When he finally let you go again, he glared at you and asked if you'd eaten. Shane ducked out as Daryl shoved you down at one of the tables and came back with a plate of whatever Carol was cooking, a bottle of water, and an angry looking Rick. 

"Oh shit, all three of you teaming up on me?" you joked, even as you shifted guiltily under Daryl's arm. He'd sat down beside you and pulled you against him again, like he was afraid if he stopped touching you, he'd disappear. 

Shane shoved the plate at you, slammed the water on the table, and crossed his arms. "He invited himself. Eat and talk, Nameless." 

"Where the hell have you been?" Rick said, fixing you with the intense-friendly glare, hands on his empty gun belt in a pose you found so familiar you couldn't help but smile. 

You picked up the fork Shane had thoughtfully provided and started shoveling in the mystery meat. You were hungry. You gestured with the fork and mumbled around a mouthful, "You know, eating and talking is hard." You swallowed and continued. "If you guys want to yell at me while I eat this, go ahead. I earned it, and if you get it all out now, I can tell you the story later." 

Daryl started laughing beside you and you looked at him in surprise. That was not the reaction you'd been expecting, but after a minute, Shane and Rick joined in. You scarfed down more food while they did, waiting with one eyebrow raised for someone to explain what was so funny. 

When Daryl finally got himself under control, he touched your cheek with his fingertips and shook his head at you, smiling faintly. "Ya ain't gonna change, are ya, baby?" 

"Probably not," you said with a shrug. "Want to know how Atlanta was?" 

"Tell me," Daryl answered. 

 

 

Rick and Shane left the two of you alone after you'd told them about the trip up, the Crow, the herd on the way back. All three of them had gotten around to yelling at you at various moments in your story, but true to pattern, they didn't yell long. After all, this was hardly the first stupid shit you'd done since the end of the world. 

In your cell, Daryl stripped off his dirty shirt wordlessly while you leaned against the wall and waited for the next round. He had a clean one in his hands and his back to you when he sighed. His shoulders slumped and he gripped the shirt hard enough that you were worried for the beleaguered fabric, but he didn't speak or move. 

You did instead. You slid your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before laying your cheek against his back. He didn't relax under you for a long moment, but finally he did, bringing one hand to lay over yours. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered again. 

He drew in a shaky breath. "Ya done now?" 

You nodded against his back. "Yeah. Daryl, I-" 

"Don't," he said harshly. "Baby, I know ya gonna be who ya are, and that involves reckless shit. But if ya'd told me ya wanted to go back, I'd have gone with ya." 

"Would you? Or would you have told me I was an idiot and it was too dangerous and tried to keep me here?" 

Daryl turned and yanked the shirt over his head, then grabbed both your hands in his. "Ya think I don't know what it means to ya? Sure, I'd have argued. But I'd have gone. Shit, some of 'em were my friends, too." 

Guilt was a motherfucker, you decided as your eyes burned. "God. I'm sorry. I really am." 

He sighed and pulled you in again, pressing his face to your neck as he held on. "I know. Just- are ya done? Really?" 

"Yeah. I am. I mean, I think he's still out there. I'm not going to relax. I'm probably going to keep looking, but close to home. One or two night trips, max. Supply runs and shit, like you," you told him quietly. "If he's out there, near us, we'll find him. If he's further gone..." you trailed off and shrugged. 

Daryl pulled back to study you closely. "Why the change?" 

"Because," you started slowly, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed. "Because I'm alive, damn it. So are you. Because Merle wouldn't have wanted either of us to waste that. He gave us a change to live. He got deep into shit so he could pave the way for us to get out of that goddamn hell hole. He wanted- he wanted us happy and free and alive." You sniffed, swiping at the tears that had started on your cheeks. 

Daryl sat and slid his arm around you. You tipped your head to his shoulder and looked at the cinder block wall opposite you. Maybe ending up in prison had always been your destiny, you mused. This wasn't the way you'd seen that going, but you had Daryl. You had Shane and Rick and Carol and Maggie and Glenn and Michonne and Hershel and Beth and Carl and Judith. You had people to protect and take care of; people you loved who loved you back just as fiercely. 

It'd brought you and Daryl back together, filling the hole in your life you'd been aching and wounded from for years. You missed Merle like you'd miss an arm, a leg, a part of you, but- 

But you couldn't deny he'd been so damn unhappy. The end of the world had brought him back to the two of you in an unexpected way as well; he'd been clean and clear and the closest to your Merle he'd been since he'd gone off to war. 

If this was the end of the world, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing, you decided. 

Daryl pulled you close and kissed your hair, and Judith started crying in the distance. You heard Beth's voice rise in song, the door to C block clang open, and Shane yell for Carl to get his ass in gear because his dad was looking for him. Carl's running footsteps sounded and you smiled. 

"Hey! If you two are done with the makeup sex in there, we've got walker buildup that needs attention!" Shane called from outside your curtain, and you started laughing as Daryl muttered some creative profanity. 

Oh, yeah, you thought as you rose and swung on your jacket and Merle's vest. It wasn't a bad thing at all.


	101. Epilogue: Runnin' Down A Dream

You scowled at Daryl, and he raised an eyebrow back in clear challenge. Your eyes narrowed as you drew in a sharp breath, ready to unleash twenty pounds of crazy on him if he didn't take that back right now, damn it. 

"Look. I don't care what ya say," he said before you spoke. "Speedwagon is hard rock." 

"It's glam rock!" you shot back, gesturing wildly. "Have you seen Cronin's hair? I mean, sure, he can wail, but they are not on the same level as Leppard or Zepplin or-" 

"Guns'n'Roses?" Daryl said mildly, lips twitching. 

You glared harder, aware now that he was only trying to get a rise out of you. "Yes, damn it. God, you're an asshole." 

His smile was faint but the amusement in his eyes was real. "Ya too damn easy to get all worked up." 

You had a retort on your lips, though it wasn't a good one, when an arm fell heavy around your shoulders and you looked up and grinned at Merle. "Hey," you said instead. "Your brother's an asshole." 

"'Course he is, baby girl," Merle agreed, not looking at either of you. His eyes were following one of the girls from his class, and you watched as he winked and she blushed. 

You smirked at him when he finally looked at you. "Got your eye on someone, Merle?" 

"Hell yeah, girlie. And she got her eye right back, ya know what I mean?" he offered with a wink for you as the three of you started down the road. 

"We're twelve, dickhead," Daryl muttered. "We don't wanna know what you mean." 

"Aw, shit, little brother. I gotta make sure ya get an education somehow, since the two of ya seem to think the only people in the world are each other." 

"Don't be ridiculous, Merle," you said, glancing at Daryl from the corner of your eye as you blushed. His cheeks looked as red as yours felt, and he was scowling at his feet instead of looking at you. "You exist, too." 

Merle's laugh rang out and filled the air around you, and you grinned at him. Daryl heaved a long suffering sigh and asked what you guys were going to get up to that afternoon, aside from arguing over eighties rock stars. As he and Merle started bickering- Merle agreed with you about Speedwagon, and you tossed out some trash talk just to be a bitch- you felt yourself smiling. 

It was warm, but not middle-of-summer Georgia hot; the sun was shining; and school was out for the weekend. Two days of hanging out in the woods with the Dixons and no school stretched out in front of you, and man that felt like forever. Merle's bike held the promise of long rides; the creek would be swum in; and you'd curl up between them in the tent or you'd slide through Daryl's open window in the middle of the night. It was all so- 

"What the hell ya grinnin' about, baby girl?" Merle asked and you tuned back in to smirk up at him. 

"Nothing. Just the weekend. Gonna be perfect, isn't it?" 

Merle rolled his eyes. "The hell makes ya say that? Ain't ya been listenin' to a word we said? Gonna be hot as hell; Will's in a fine-ass mood 'cause the shop's bein' investigated; my bike needs work. Gonna be a shit weekend, girlie." 

You shook your head. "Nope. Doesn't matter." 

"Why not?" Daryl asked, eyeing you curiously as Merle grumbled. 

"Because. We're together, aren't we?" you said with a shrug. "Hey, bet I can beat you to the creek! I win, we rock out to Guns'N'Roses tonight. You win, we can play Speedwagon." You took off before they could agree or disagree, laughing as you raced with the wind in your face and the Dixon boys shouting after you.


	102. The Playlist

So for anyone who hasn't figured it out yet, chapter titles and the title of the story itself are song titles or lyrics that are all 60s-80s rock. Just in case anyone wants to jam along, here's the playlist. Hope you enjoy! 

 

Once Bitten, Twice Shy- Great White

Crazy Train- Ozzy Osbourne

Wanted Dead or Alive- Bon Jovi

The Mob Rules- Black Sabbath

I Can't Drive 55- Sammy Hagar

You Give Love A Bad Name- Bon Jovi

Round and Round- Ratt

Livin' On A Prayer- Bon Jovi

Hell is For Children- Pat Benatar

Run to the Hills- Iron Maiden

Balls to the Wall- Accept

Into the Fire- Dokken

Rock You Like A Hurricane- Scorpions

Lonely Is the Night- Billy Squier

The Final Countdown- Europe

Back in the Saddle- Aerosmith

Laugh, I Nearly Died- The Rolling Stones

Janie's Got A Gun- Aerosmith

Comfortably Numb- Pink Floyd

Shoot to Thrill- AC/DC

When the Levee Breaks- Led Zepplin

Sympathy for the Devil- The Rolling Stones

Breaking the Chains- Dokken

What Is and What Should Never Be- Led Zepplin

Cum on Feel the Noize- Quiet Riot

Dazed and Confused- Led Zepplin

Sweet Child O' Mine- Guns'N'Roses

Heaven and Hell- Black Sabbath

Scarred for Life- Rose Tattoo

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap- AC/DC

Living Dead Girl- Rob Zombie

Houses of the Holy- Led Zepplin

I Drink Alone- George Thorogood and the Destroyers

Somebody Got Murdered- The Clash

Paint It Black- The Rolling Stones

Kiss Me Deadly- Lita Ford

I Fought the Law- The Clash

If You Want Blood (You've Got It)- AC/DC

Let It Bleed- The Rolling Stones

Hells Bells- AC/DC

Police and Thieves- The Clash

Enter Sandman- Metallica

Rock of Ages- Def Leppard

Jailbreak- AC/DC

Freewill- Rush

Gimme Shelter- The Rolling Stones

18 and Life- Skid Row

Burnin' for You- Blue Oyster Cult

Time Is On My Side- The Rolling Stones

Breaking the Law- Judas Priest

Shot Down in Flames- AC/DC

You Can't Always Get What You Want- The Rolling Stones

Nobody's Fool- Cinderella

Dust In the Wind- Kansas

Just Like Paradise- David Lee Roth

Foolin'- Def Leppard

Not Fade Away- Rolling Stones

London Calling- The Clash

Girls, Girls, Girls- Motley Crue

Built for Speed- Motorhead

Flirtin' with Disaster- Molly Hatchet

The Ultimate Sin- Ozzy Osbourne

Thunderstruck- AC/DC

Street Fightin' Man- The Rolling Stones

We're Not Gonna Take It- Twisted Sister

Here I Go Again- Whitesnake

Waiting On a Friend- The Rolling Stones

Communication Breakdown- Led Zepplin

Brokenpromiseland- Bon Jovi

Peace Sells- Megadeth

Dream On- Aerosmith

Runnin' with the Devil- Van Halen

If I Die Tomorrow- Motley Crue

Ace of Spades- Motorhead

Dancing With Mr. D- The Rolling Stones

Immigrant Song- Led Zepplin

Cherry Bomb- Joan Jett and the Runaways

Everybody Wants You- Billy Squier

Primal Scream- Motley Crue

The Guns of Brixton- The Clash

I Won't Back Down- Tom Petty

Babe I'm Gonna Leave You- Led Zepplin

Mary Jane's Last Dance- Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Mad World- (Originally Tears for Fears) Jason Manns ft. Michael Rosenbaum cover

The Famous Final Scene- Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band

She Sells Sanctuary- The Cult

Bringin' On the Heartbreak- Def Leppard

You Wreck Me- Tom Petty

Bad Reputation- Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

The Waiting- Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

(Don't Fear) The Reaper- Blue Oyster Cult

You're Crazy- Guns'N'Roses

Back in Business- AC/DC

19th Nervous Breakdown- the Rolling Stones

Ten Years Gone- Led Zepplin

Refugee- Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Wild Side- Motley Crue

Highway to Hell- AC/DC

Travelling Riverside Blues- Led Zepplin

Ramble On- Led Zepplin

Photograph- Def Leppard

Runnin' Down A Dream- Tom Petty

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Last Call Rock and Roll](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20690198) by [RhiKitti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhiKitti/pseuds/RhiKitti)




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